


What I’d Never Say and Do (if I Was in My Right Mind)

by Anika_Ann



Series: Errare Humanum Est [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Universe – Soulmates, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Character Death, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Identity Reveal, Meet-Cute, Reader-Insert, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Temporary Character Death, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, steve rogers is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-10-28 07:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20774987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anika_Ann/pseuds/Anika_Ann
Summary: A story in which you officially come back from the dead, Tony with Natasha decide to take the blame for the whole mess and organize a party with unexpected party crashers and Bucky should consider thinking before speaking.Fic title applicable to Tony, Natasha, Steve and his soulmate (aka the Reader), Bucky and his sort-of-buddy Matt Murdock and possibly few more.Just a smaller thing, snippets set around The Age of Ultron (and later, The Endgame).





	1. We both break free (…if we make it on top)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tetyfernands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tetyfernands/gifts).

> For Tetyfernands, for her undying enthusiasm and support.
> 
> For everyone who has ever been so kind to let me know they were/are here, reading through my blabs.

Tony Stark was a ridiculously theatrical person.

While that was no news to anyone who knew as much as his name at least, but he still managed to outlive the legend, the reputation that preceded him.

He left you standing by the door, walked in to gain an undivided attention of the person inside the office and wanted you to reveal yourself in the exact right moment – a moment he trusted you to recognize.

Well. You assumed with a revelation like yours, it _was_ rather hard to keep the drama away. But leave it to Tony Stark he would blow it to proportion just to have fun.

“Tamara, darling!” the billionaire howled, the door opened only for a crack, so you could hear the reaction. You rolled your eyes, sighed and nervously looked around. The department was empty safe for the woman in the office, but it still made you feel uneasy; probably the effect of having to hide for the past weeks to avoid detection that could lead to major scandal.

“Oh god, what happened?” _Tamara _asked, sounding as horrified as annoyed.

“Why do you assume— okay, that’s fair. How’s you hubby doing?”

“Alright,” the poor woman answered, clearly suspicious. “I more or less cleaned up the latest mess, so I’ve been coming home early…”

“Yeeeeah, about that. I have good news and bad news. Which would you like to hear first?” Tony offered cheerily.

“Bad news. _Always_. Let me just sit down— no, no, don’t let me sit down, I have a feeling I’ll wanna pace irritably.”

That caused your lips to turn up. You were starting to like this woman already.

“I’m gonna need you to deal with a major scandal worthy of your skills.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere and I assumed as much.” Now you officially loved her – and you saw why Tony did too. Sass and snark. Tony’s language. “So, care to elaborate?”

“Nah, I’ll give you the good news. You’re gonna get some help. I brought reinforcements. She doesn’t have much experience with PR-” _Try **none.** _“-but I’m pretty sure she’ll be the one all the questions will be aimed at.”

“Oh my _god_, Anthony, did you get a woman _pregnant?!”_ the woman hissed, not bothering lowering her voice. She sounded… kinda pissed. Which was reasonable, given the fact Tony Stark was happily-not-single with one amazing Pepper Potts.

“What? No! I have Pepper!” he opposed her, having the nerve to be offended. You smirked, hoping Jarvis caught that one lien too. “This is all on Capsicle-“

_“Captain Rogers_ got a woman pregnant?! What the-“

You felt like this was the moment.

“No, Mrs…. Tamara,” you said it the end, realizing Tony never told you the poor woman’s last name, and entered the room. “But his soulmate sort of came back from the death.”

Tamara was a middle-aged woman, with blonde medium-length hair and huge majestic glasses, business suit in a bloody-red colour and lips perfectly shaped in an “O” as you demonstrated the problem at hand.

“Holy. Shit.”

Leave it to Tony Stark he would flee the moment an actual explanation was needed, letting the others deal with the aftermath of his drama. To be fair, this was more of _your_ drama, so…

“Good. Looks like introductions are not needed. I’ll send you the necessary data. Have fun.”

He strode through the door, winking over his shoulder at you and sending an air kiss to Tamara and you nervously smiled at the woman, your awkward side showing when you raised your hand to a reluctant wave before you could realize a handshake would be more appropriate.

“Uhm. Hi…”

The blonde blinked several times, shook her head with an incredulous chuckle and stuck out her hand.

“Hi. I’m Tamara. Antony Stark’s cleaning service. What can I do for you?”

Oh yeah. You’d get along just fine.

…

_The story was simple and yet enough to make at least two Avengers very much hated. _

_Tony and Natasha, perhaps from some residual guilt of which you weren’t sure where was coming from, were determined to be thrown to the wolves of public._

_Apparently, it had been all their idea – to have Steve and you kidnapped in the first place. They had caught something fishy, been aware of it for a long time and opted for drawing the something rotten within SHIELD and company out by leaking early info on where you and Steve would be going to dates for several nights in a row without your or Steve’s knowledge. Perfect bait with nearly perfect surveillance background and safety measures. _

_Predictably, it had gone to shit and while you had never been blown up to death, something Steve had had zero clue about, you had been recovering from your life-threatening injuries for weeks in a hidden facility of top-secret location with way too much security. Still without Captain America’s knowledge._

_Admittedly, this tale was a PR nightmare in making, not to mention a complete **bullshit**. Yet, the Avengers (sans Steve so far) unanimously approved of it. Tony and Natasha would be the first to blame, while the rest would reluctantly admit they knew as well and they had all kept it from Steve. _

_“You can’t be serious,” was all you managed to come up with, Steve sitting on the couch next to you while the rest of the team who momentarily was on Earth gathered around you to break you the news. This was what they came up with? “People will hate you.”_

_“And their hearts would still bleed for their golden boy, who would forgive us in time, especially since we offered his girl a job and an apartment she can’t quite refuse.”_

_“Wait, what kind of a job?!” Steve snapped, waking up from the deep thoughts he had fallen into with this stupid talk._

_“The non-dangerous kind, Steve, calm down, please,” Natasha cooled him off flatly, but you could see her sincere gaze when it met with Steve’s. We wouldn’t endanger her, not again, it whispered. Steve’s shoulders slumped._

_“What kind of a job?” you echoed, still worried. You assumed the apartment Tony mentioned was a place in the Tower, not bothering to ask about that part._

_“PR. Unless you want to deal with your old job of which I have no doubt your best buddy would give back. I’d just like to remind you how the public reacted to you dying.”_

_Right. You wouldn’t mind a little privacy and safe space. You liked your old job, but it didn’t seem like an option now. Except… this was crazy._

_“But they will still hate you. It makes you guys terrible friends and teammates. Frankly, it makes you kind of… terrible people,” you said slowly, taking time to examine everyone’s face._

_“She’s got a point,” Steve agreed, wheels in his head clearly turning in a lightning speed. _

_“You should know what Fury’s up to during his ‘the end justifies the means’ periods – which is non-stop. I wouldn’t worry about that,” Natasha shrugged it off, pursing her lips a bit._

_“Wasn’t it you who said you weren’t sure how to get her back to the world without having to explain she was literally led by an angel from Heaven?” Clint reacted to Steve, who sighed._

_“Yes, of course, but this-“_

_“-is perfectly believable,” Natasha interrupted him, raising an eyebrow before beckoning to Tony and herself. “Me and Tony came up with the operation – a spy and a billionaire with questionable conscience. We pulled the rest of the team into the charade. This can work.”_

_“I can’t say I’ll enjoy this,” Bruce entered the conversation for the first time, surprising everyone. “However, it will allow you to walk the streets freely – with uncomfortable questions, yes, but it is a reasonable deal for us.”_

_“Steve? Thoughts?” the spy turned to him again._

_Your soulmate observed his team for a long time, just like you, watching each of them individually, trying to read them as he himself was conflicted and undecisive. Finally, his eyes settled on you, a hint of an encouraging smile on his lips. _

_“Doll? How do you feel about that?”_

_The softness of his voice, the actual freedom he gave you when it came to this decision warmed your heart and made you shudder at the same time. You had no doubt he had come to a decision; but the final step was on you and you only. He would be affected too, of course, but this was **your** life that could turn upside down for like… what, the third time since you had met him? _

_You worried your teeth over your lower lip. “I mean… I’d really appreciate not having to hide in here all the time, but… I don’t want people to hate you, guys. I feel like I caused enough problems-“_

_“No, doll,” Steve whispered, his hand covering yours and squeezing firmly as he locked his gaze with yours and didn’t let go. “I’m not asking about them. I’m asking about **you**. They are clearly willing to do this.”_

_“Are you?” you questioned despite being confident about his answer._

_“Do I love you?”_

_That caught you off guard. “Huh? That’s not what I-…?”_

_What did that even mean? Did he love— come again? How was this about his feelings towards you all of sudden? Was it time to question them? God, you hoped NOT._

_“That the newest version of asking whether the sky is blue, doll,” he explained with a lop-sided smile and you released a breath you didn’t remember holding._

_Idiot. Sap. Sweet-talker._

_“You’re such a sap.”_

_“You love it,” he hummed confidently. You smiled despite your better judgement. You loved him. And yeah, you loved this silliness too._

_“I do.”_

_“So… are we doing this? Together?” His smiled grew a little wider, the twinkle you adored appearing in his eyes and you couldn’t but squeeze his hand back._

_“Yeah. Together.”_

_“Jarvis, send Dum-E with some insulin shots,” Tony cleared his throat and you felt your cheek dust with pink, roughly pulled out of the haze Steve managed to put you in once again. “We’re all having unhealthy sugar rush.”_

_The captain rolled his eyes. “Har, har, Stark. Are you guys really okay with this?”_

_Clint huffed. “It’s not like people start planning our assassination more than they do already.” _

_“Tamara might,” Natasha opposed, amused._

_“Ah, poor Tamara, I better bring a wine with me when asking…” Tony mused, scratching his goatee._

_You turned to the red-head spy, not happy about being out of the loop. _

_“Who’s Tamara?”_

Tamara, the head of the PR department for Tony (and sometimes for the Avengers too, because those two clients, so to speak, often came as a package deal), was currently starring at you speechless when you told her the tale of what actually happened and which lie they had decided to feed the public.

The silence lasted long enough for you to start worrying.

“Are you alri-“

“Angels are real?!” she burst out, nearly making you jump out of your skin with the sudden exclaim. You placed your palm over your heart to keep your racing heart inside your ribcage.

“…yes. But so are demons, shapeshifters, witches and so on, so…”

“Not a good thing to go public with. Got it. I understand the cover-up now. Though people being able to be resurrected would be enough on its own even without the…creatures. My my… we have a lot of work to do.”

“I’d imagine,” you agreed, not having a clue how to do this and where to start.

The woman looked at you over the rim of her glasses, her smile kind, in the Stark contrast to her loud cry only few second ago.

“…you don’t have any experience with PR, do you?”

“Nope,” you admitted, accenting the P and looking away, ashamed that Tony threw you into this without giving you anything helpful. Now Tamara had to deal with the scandal _and_ with you trying to help. That woman was worthy of some serious pay raise (though you had no doubt Tony paid her enough for her to own a villa or something, exactly as much as she deserved for dealing with his shit).

“I’m gonna kill Anthony, I swear… let’s get this shit on the road. Also, Jarvis? Tell Antony to get the freakin’ wine ASAP.”

Oh yeah. You would actually _adore_ Tamara, you were sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! The final part of the series. Admittedly, I’m not sure about quality of this thing, but I’m trying.
> 
> Chapter titles are taken from the chorus of Les Friction’s What You Need ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gVul71VqhzA )
> 
> Off-topic note:  
_my prof. on EN culture: _…you’ll also write an essay on one of the topics I’ll post later. It will probably be the longest English text you’ve ever written. About 1 – 1,500 words.  
_me: _*eyes the total user’s word count on AO3 nearing one mil and mutters under her breath* Cute.  
To be fair, I’m taking this class with freshmen and I started writing in English later as well but dude. I honestly can’t tell whether he was joking or whether they never had to write a thing on high school.
> 
> Aaaanyway. Thoughts? :)


	2. We move together... (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …aka Steve might get a bit tipsy and jealous in a sweet way.

The press conference was a thing from nightmares. You did _not_ enjoy all the flashes of cameras; you were not Tony freaking Stark, all charming and witty when over a hundred reporters stumbled through the doorway of the huge conference room. No, you could only manage to be sassy and fun within a circle of your friends. Which you found yourself in anyway, but boy, the presence of the others was still very much apparent and _they_ were the ones asking questions.

Even Bruce had been forced to come, much to his dismay, but him and Clint were for some reason left out when it came to the poisonous questions, their duo considered only unwilling participants of the whole plotting for and against the poor soulmate pair of you and Steve.

You truly envied Thor who was off to Asgard once more. And while you wouldn’t want to be in Bucky’s shoes, you sure as hell wished you could sit this one out as he did, the public still not aware of his existence safe for one priest who had helped him to find his way to Steve.

It was ridiculous. The tone a question was asked with was enough to distinguish whether it was aimed at you and Steve or at someone else. Hell, when it came to you and Steve, they didn’t even bother _asking,_ just stating the facts instead.

“Such a long recovery. That must have been horrible, especially with an amnesia involved, wasn’t it.”_ (Yes, shockingly. What is it to you, huh?) _

“Such a luck you were able to remember, isn’t it.” _(Luck had nothing to do with it.)_

“You must be angry with Captain’s team too, aren’t you.”_ (No, they are the best, you idiot, this whole thing is a stupid lie.) _

“I am sure you’re willing to share your story since people were grieving for you in such a worship-like way…”_ (…fuck you.)_

In reality, you tried to word your indignation towards this herd-like aggressivity aimed at the Avengers and towards the blatant pity for you more carefully, speaking of hardship but justified, and _yes_, you were very lucky indeed. They didn’t need to know just how much.

Steve received pretty similar set of questions, but they were more of anger and questioning whether the team was still able to function after such a betrayal that nearly ended up tragically. Steve was surprisingly convincing in his act of a disappointed teammate and friend and expressed hope that they would be able to continue to exist and cooperate, his team slowly earning his trust back.

“Have the outcome had been different, my reaction would be too. But the love of my life is here with me and that is what matters. I cannot begin how lucky I am to have her back and I thank God for that every day.”

You bit your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at the private joke and smiled at him instead, earning a whispering wave of ‘awww’ from the crowd and a blinding mess of camera flashes when you gathered the courage to lean in and kiss Steve’s cheek chastely. The reporters went absolutely nuts.

Tony and Natasha on the other hand had to face the stoning. Seriously, there were being personally attacked, questions dripping venom, but they clearly had more experience and knew how to answer without the cunning reporters being able to twist their words into something menacing, much to their dislike and annoyance. Duo Stark-Romanoff fought back and very effectively.

It filled your chest with pride, having friends capable in so many ways. They were so freaking badass.

It made the whole experience more bearable; that and Steve’s hand always touching you, grounding you and reminding him that never _ever_ he would let you face the wolves alone.

\---

You all knew that a public apology and trying your best to deal with the press somehow wouldn’t be enough. Well, you had _hoped _it would, but hadn’t quite believed.

You were right, of course, which was why you were currently dressed up (or _dolled up_, as Steve loved to say, because you were his _doll_, after all) and forcing yourself to leave the elevator once it would stop, with Steve by your side.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he coaxed, knuckles brushing your cheek tenderly, planting a soft kiss to your temple, too worried about smudging your lipstick despite Natasha’s earlier reassurance that it wouldn’t smudge under _any_ circumstances as she had thoroughly tested. You tried not to think about that kind of testing and clearly Steve felt the same.

Instead, you gazed into the cerulean blue with a drop of green of his genuine eyes, not convinced. He was being sweet and all, which you appreciated, but in reality, he had no way of knowing it _would_ be alright. Mostly because Tony went all the way and invited important people who could influence the public opinion as much as rising stars of which he felt could influence them in the near future.

So next to a senator and his group of big shot businessmen, there would hang out a pair of lawyers sticking by the little guy and right next to a supermodel, there would be invited a girl starting a new food bank. Thinking about it, it was a funny parallel to Steve and you by his side, except you weren’t doing any good like them. Not that you would say that out loud.

To be fair, the Avengers decided to spice thing up a little by revealing Bucky Barnes being alive, very slowly leaking his story of a brainwashed soldier. Funnily enough, in a shadow of _your_ big reveal, his own went rather quietly.

People were so freakin’ weird.

“I guess I’m gonna survive…” you murmured, ignoring the icy shiver that ran up your spine at your choice of words. Steve’s eyes grew distant for a moment before coming back to you, some of the strength he was trying to project into you in the wind with the painful memory. “Sorry. That was-“

The emotion no doubt twisting his gut caused his inhibitions to fly out of the window and his lips captured yours in a searing kiss that took your breath away. You melted against his muscular frame that seemed to engulf you completely, his calloused fingers grabbing onto your bare shoulders, digging in a bit deeper than necessary.

Your head was spinning with the passion displayed so openly and in the back of your mind, you registered that the elevator stopped, but before you could get to the idea of thanking Tony’s AI, your brain got side-tracked when Steve shamelessly licked into your mouth and backed you into the railing by the wall. Feeling the familiar heat pool in your lower abdomen, sending sizzling heat through your veins, you instinctively gripped the lapels of his suit jacket when his lips retreated to give you a chance to breathe in.

Who needed breathing anyway?

He grinned against your mouth, the little shit he was, and one of his hands guided your head to a tilt for better access. You most definitely whimpered at that as his body trapped you against the wall completely, not leaving an inch in between.

Feeling him this close would never get old and you thought you might burst by the time his mouth moved to your left ear, keeping you in place while his hand moved from your shoulder to trace the line of your dress, slipping between the high slit of your dress to caress your thigh.

“Watch your mouth, doll. Or I’m gonna have to do exactly this to shut you up every time you don’t,” he whispered and your raging breath caught in your throat when the perfect comeback popped in your head – a reasonable one, surprisingly enough.

“I bet the press would love that.”

His fingers flexed on your leg and his teeth very carefully nibbled on the skin of your neck, causing your heart to skip a beat.

“Don’t care about the press,” he growled lowly, sighing as if in pain when he slowly pulled back, leaving you clutching the railing so you wouldn’t fall as your legs turned into an uncontrollable wobbly mass. Then, as if he wanted to ruin you completely before the night even started, his lips were graced by a soft smile, his eyes twinkling. “I care about you.”

“And you call _me_ trouble…”

He had the nerve to wink at you and thank the AI for the stop he never explicitly asked for.

“My pleasure, Steve,” Jarvis hummed, sounding amused and self-satisfied.

Your soulmate gentlemanly offered you an elbow to lead you out of the cabin.

“Shall we, my lady?”

\---

In all honesty, the party wasn’t that bad, mostly because it wasn’t just to celebrate your resurrection, but also retrieving a sceptre Thor’s brother had used during The Battle of New York.

You wouldn’t go as far as saying you enjoyed the evening immensely, but you had met several interesting people of which only few had weird questions regarding you; weird questions when showing up in public was an everyday occurrence though. You finally truly understood why Steve was happy you treated him like an equal (most of the time anyway).

Every single original male Avenger _and_ Sam _and _Bucky made sure to dance with you as well as with Natasha and for a good measure, when the song got the right beat, your favourite redhead dragged you to the dance floor for a friendly dance; needless to say Natasha was much better at spontaneous dancing than you. Steve assured you about the opposite by a kiss and a rather filthy promise as soon as you shared your thoughts on your skills with him.

Actually – yes, you might even say you enjoyed the party very much, uncharacteristically for you, considering the _insane_ number of people attending. The penthouse was way too full, but here you were, sipping on your third glass of champagne, listening to Thor’s colourful narrating regarding Asgardian battles. It wasn’t that you were interested in battles, no – it was the man himself creating suspense and gesturing wildly and making the whole clutch of listeners breathless.

“Careful with the admiring, doll,” Steve whispered to your ear, his arm sneaking around your waist out of nowhere, nearly making you jump out of your skin. “I might get jealous.”

Giddy from the alcohol, you turned your head and brushed his lips with yours.

“We did establish I’d marry Thor if you weren’t an option, didn’t we?” you teased lowly, catching the wink Thor sent your direction as if he heard you despite your hushed voice. It wasn’t flirtation; no, it felt more like mischief, as if he was being your wingman, which he excelled at, apparently, because Steve might get little possessive if the grunt by your ear was anything to go by. “As if you didn’t know I only have eyes for you.”

“Just eyes?”

“Why, Captain, are you implying something?”

“Maybe.”

“Of course, my heart is yours as well,” you smirked at him, making his somehow annoyed and pleased at the same time. You leaned even closer. “And everything else.”

“Alright, but what about that hammer of yours? I mean, I saw people swinging around Captain’s shield – though not as skilfully – but no one uses your weapon. Why? Is it that heavy? Are you the only one strong enough to… keep it up?” one of the women asked, apparently more than a little tipsy, judging by her implication.

Gee, she had no inhibitions. Were you being like this now? You really hoped not…

“Well, my lady, that is a very complicated matter…” Thor started, clearly pleased by that question.

“Dance with me again,” sounded softly at your ear and your lips automatically curled up in a smile.

“Whatever makes you happy, my love.”

Steve grinned as he swiftly got rid of the glass in your hand and was already pulling you away by the time you noticed the envious or the amused stares of your companions.

“Green’s not a good colour on you, Steve,” you hummed incidentally, earning an actual _pout._ “This is adorable though. And I’m not gonna complain about you getting a bit handsy more often.”

“_Trouble_, doll.”

“I love you too.”

“I do love you. I’m sorry if I got annoying. It’s just… ugh. Thor. You got this look in your eyes and I just-”

Oh. You sometimes forgot Steve could be as self-conscious as you were. It made your heart aching and yet warmed.

“No, Steve. I might get starry-eyed, because of course I do admire him. It’s easy to get captivated by his stories or his manners, just look at the crowd around him. But you… there’s something about you… that strikes me right here.” You tapped over your heart pointedly. “You know me through and through and yet here you are. You _must_ know I’m yours and still – you treat me every day like you’re courting me and at the same time, we’re comfortable with each other and—yeah. Thor is great. But you’re everything. You’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” he confirmed, brilliant eyes shining, a glint of Asgardian liquor adding to the glow. “And you’re mine.”

“Meant to be…” you cooed, happily giving in to his lips when they found yours again for a short moment. You barely realized you stopped in your steps as the slow song had made you only sway. You whispered into his lips then, unbothered. “Plus, I bet you could lift that hammer and keep it up too if you tried.”

His rich laughter filled your ears and he spun you both in circle, planting a kiss on your forehead. You already planned on how you’d get him a custom-made mug with a little hammer on it, reading ‘I am worthy’ or something like that. You were sure he’d love it.

Yeah, it was an amazing party.

Here was a funny thing though; when you had already been confronted with the fact angels and God existed, you should have known blasphemy was a thing.

So, naturally, as you had said ‘I guess I’m gonna survive…’, you should have known there would be a thick chance that you wouldn’t.

That was the first thing that flew through your mind the moment something burst through a wall as if it was made paper thin and not metal.

The second thought? _Oh shit._


	3. ...from here on out (2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …aka reader does something a bit risky that bites her in her ass. Almost. Matt Murdock loses his mind. A bit.

The second thought? _Oh shit._

No, scratch that – your second thought was ‘_Holy shit, Steve has very quick reflexes.’_

The same moment the sound reached your ears and shook your very core, you were tackled to the ground and shielded by Steve’s impressive frame, a flash of panic in his bright eyes. He wasn’t losing any time gazing into yours though, assessing the sudden chaos and switching to his Avenger mode in a fraction of second.

Your mind was slower than his, but one thing wormed its way through your brain immediately; yes, it was in fact an army of fucking robots crashing the party, lined up and levitating two feet above the ground.

_The fuck-_

You suspected that the robots were mind-readers on top of everything, when one of them, bigger than the others, spoke up to the momentary stunned silence, his voice hoarse and rough as if he was smoking two packs of cigarettes a day: _“Sorry to crash the party, folks.”_

Another beat of silence and the robots rocketed off simultaneously with the first scream that set off a cacophony of horror.

Steve’s voice broke through the eardrum-tearing noise.

“Stay down and get _the hell_ out of here,” he hissed, jumped to his feet in an impressive speed and took off to be the hero he was.

Why was he giving you opposite orders? That didn’t make any- it took you a moment to realize he didn’t mean for you to lie on the floor and make your escape at the same time, just wanted you not to run with your back straightened.

To be fair, you were too dumbstruck by the desperation stuffed into the simple order, carrying way many more words that the actual sentence, to have a clear mind.

_Run. I don’t care how and where, I don’t care what you need to do to get out of here, but you **run** and don’t look back. Get to safety, no matter what._

As you crouched, your eyes flickering over the chaos of a room, you caught Tony’s calculating gaze and gave him an inconspicuous nod; a second later, his gaze fell on something else and you followed his line of sight to Pepper. You exchanged a silent conversation and sprang to action.

Here was a thing: Tony Stark was a technical genius.

His trust in his own technology and security systems was immense.

His trust in his own technology and security systems was not unconditional.

Tony Stark was a paranoid bastard of a man, which was something he could bond over with Steve; the Steve after your death that was.

Natasha had been forced to teach you a bit of hand to hand combat. Jarvis had been forced to go over the plans of the Avengers Tower and escape routes million times. The part Steve was clearly forgetting now was the two different panic rooms, technology free, of which Tony hadn’t failed to inform you; or maybe he was just forgetting the part in which he tended to inspire people around him.

In this case it meant there was no way you would park your ass in one of those panic rooms and let the hell that had broken loose rain on everyone else, on people who were as much of civilians as you were.

And Pepper was about to help you.

Steve was about to kill you later, but you would have to live long enough to let him, so that was the least of your concerns.

As the Captain had told you, you did run and tried to stay down. You just happened to pick everyone you could reach on your way and beg them to pass the information about the panic rooms over. You cursed Tony for his fondness of crowds. This would have been much easier if it was the Avengers and close circle only; mostly because nearly everyone would be able to protect themselves and wouldn’t be busy running while the Earth’s mightiest heroes tried to keep the fight away from civilians.

But life wasn’t always easy.

You spotted Tamara’s blond hair in the sea of faces and soon realized she joined you on your mission, clearly having been informed on the panic rooms as well. You saw several people you had barely become familiar with tonight, a pair of charming dorky lawyers among them; you were relieved when you saw the one with longer hair helping his very much blind friend.

Some women were losing their shoes on purpose, some due to being dragged away by the crowd. You fought your way forward, happy you weren’t wearing any killer heels, people following you like a herd; at least the individuals who hadn’t followed Pepper three floors lower.

“End of the hall, come on. Heavy door, no electronic locks. Just open it and squish as many inside as you can,” you urged a responsibly-looking man whose name you couldn’t recall at the moment, but he didn’t seem bothered by it, instantly following the instruction and speeding up to let the others in. You stayed on the corner, making sure everyone headed the right direction in their panic.

The screams were deafening, the influx of people seemingly never-ending and you silently prayed no one had been left behind. You tried _very hard_ not to think about Steve and others fighting fucking _robots_.

Finally, the last guests ran past you; well, _ran_ as much as they could. You joined the duo of lawyers (an occupancy that somehow got stuck in your mind), of whom one was an ironic representative of the justice being blind.

“You think that was everyone?” you asked, purposely not addressing one or the other. For one, you didn’t want to be rude, but to be honest, you managed to forget their actual names as well.

“Yeah, I hope so. This is insane,” he hurried and maybe it was only your imagination, but he appeared rather calm considering how _insane_ the situation was.

Then again, some might say you were too. You felt like in some sort of a haze, though. Your body was doing things you couldn’t remember ordering it, acting despite your insides clenching, heart so frantic you might as well go into a cardiac arrest. You were thankful for the autopilot mode; running side by side with the two men definitely looked like a good idea.

Until you were yanked back by the hem of your dress, sent flying and landing on your shoulder.

_“Shit,”_ you hissed as the sharp pain shot through your whole arm, your ribs crying out as well.

Fuck, _fuck_ that hurt. How was Steve doing it, landing like that all the time and almost making it look like _fun?!_

Not relevant.

_Really_ not relevant right now.

You scrambled away from the mechanical torso hovering over the ground, almost appearing to examine you. Perhaps it was wondering whether you were about to get up? You didn’t want to, FYI. The pain was coming in waves now, pulsating somewhere deep inside of your muscles.

The voices at the end of the hall fell silent and you guessed the last people made it to the room. The raging fight in the party space was still rumbling through the walls, vibrating in your chest. Or was it just your heart?

_“Well, this is ironic,”_ the robotic voice you remembered from when the big robot crashed the party hummed.

How the hell did all the robots have the same voice?

_NOT RELEVANT._

You pushed up to your feet, ready to either fight or flee, unsure which you had better chances succeeding at.

You doubted you had the slightest chance at either.

_“You’re out of luck. Guess the Captain will have to deal with your loss once more.”_

The two simple sentences froze you on spot, shaking something deep within you. A memory of a mad smile, of desperate voice, of fire and agony cursing through your veins turned you into a statue.

_‘With your loss.’_ With your _death._ You were gonna die.

There was no way of fighting this thing. You felt the uncontrollable tremor in your muscles, your throat closing off with surging panic.

You couldn’t even _breathe_, let alone defend yourself when the mechanical monster with glowing red eyes raised its arm, the sound of charging nearly causing your ears to bleed.

You spotted Bucky with the corner of your eye, but you knew it was too late. He was too far away; no matter how much he sped up, horror having his face lose all colour, he wouldn’t make it, because he carried no long-distance weapon.

You squeezed your eyes shut and curled into yourself and thought of your soulmate, the way he held you when he found out you were alive and with your memories back.

_Steve’s heart will break, for real this time,_ a small voice whispered in the back of your head, _and he’s not gonna handle it. _You sent a quick mental sorry.

Funny how you thought of him instead of yelling ‘_I don’t want to fucking die!’_

And the blast was still not coming.

Instead, there was a loud crash that had you snap your eyes open at instant, only to come face to face with shocked Bucky; with Bucky, who was still several feet away, crossing the remaining distance in an impressive speed.

Another man was engaged in a furious battle of limbs, a punch there, a spin-jump-kick a second after, knocking the heap of components right onto Bucky’s metallic arm; the robot was cut in half, Bucky’s arm going through it like a knife through butter.

What was left of the machine hit the ground with a clatter, the glow in its eyes fading until it died completely.

A man in a cheap suit was standing with his bloody fists raised, facing a very cautious and panting Bucky. You wanted to say thank you to your saviours, but you couldn’t find your voice, still struggling to breathe in.

It wasn’t until a pair of warm brown eyes appeared in front of your face, blindly staring onto your mouth, until your brain rebooted and made the connection along with telling you to _how_ to breathe in.

It was the lawyer. The very much _blind_ lawyer, an incarnation of the famous saying, one of the dorky pair of defenders of justice.

He just saved your life.

By fighting like a Bruce freaking Lee.

“What the- the hell just- hap-happened?” you rasped, the palm of your unharmed arm pressed against your ribcage to feel your own heart, your chest expanding.

_Still beating. Not dead. Just really fucking scared and confused._

“Yeah. I was wondering the same thing,” Bucky growled, but with an audible trace of gratitude towards the man. His worried gaze fell on you, searching your face as his intimidating fighting stance eased. “But now is not the time. Let’s get you to Steve before he loses his mind. He flipped out when he saw you helping others instead of running off.”

You took a shuddering breath, closing your eyes and letting the sudden absence of the roar of battle wash over you.

“Hey. You’re okay. It’s gone. Can I touch your shoulder? The one that’s not injured,” a voice coaxed you and you mentally catalogued it as the lawyer’s.

A low warning grumble sounded on your right, but you nodded. You tried not to think about how the hell a blind man, who was apparently moonlighting like a ninja, knew about your shoulder pulsing with agony, hence avoided it skilfully, his gentle touch grounding.

“Hmfg. Let’s go. You have a lot explaining to do, Murdock. But thanks.”

Right. _Murdock_. He had a nice alliteration in his name, you remembered now. Matt Murdock. His friend called himself Foggy Nelson.

“Yeah…” you whispered, fluttering your eyes open and letting the two men lead you towards where the horror started. “Thank you, Mr. Murdock.”

“You’re welcome, miss.”

\---

The previously fancy room was a complete mess; furniture in splinters, clothing torn to shreds, glass in shards, mechanics whirling and cracking with electricity, sometimes with sparks flying around. All of that sprayed with drops of blood.

Your stomach turned over, but you were able to swallow your nausea and fight the vertigo as your name was shouted from across the room, rapid strides of a huge man crossing the distance in seconds.

“Don’t touch-“ Murdock tried to warn Steve, but that man had already made up his mind, pulling you against his chest, arms winded tightly around your body.

You swallowed the cry of sharp pain in order to let him hug you and you breathed in deeply; freshly washed suit, his cologne, sweat, blood and _him_.

Your arm throbbed with agony, but your heart was finding its peace despite still racing.

_Now_ you were truly safe. And Steve was alive and well. All would be good.

“Oh thank God, you’re okay,” he whispered to your mess of hair, his chest heaving. You could feel his heart hammering against your cheek, a prove of what a fright you had given him.

“Punk, stop it, you’re going to smother her,” Bucky noted, sighing. “Plus, she was thrown around and did not land exactly gracefully.”

Steve released you at instant, his face a mask of horror. Funny how Steve was much more expressive than Cap. You always loved it.

His attentive gaze was measuring you from head to toe, finally taking in your tense posture and stiff shoulders.

“What the hell are you talking about? Doll? What happened?!”

You opened your mouth uselessly, struggling to find words to break it to him gently and without freaking him out too much.

Unfortunately, Matt Murdock beat you to speaking. “A robot grabbed her-“

Steve’s eyes widened, assessing your state again, his harsh inhale loud enough to hear. You shot Murdock a glare.

_“Traitor,”_ you hissed at your saviour and then turned back to Steve, your uninjured hand laid on his shoulder. “Mr. _Lawyer_ here took care of it. But yeah, I’ll have a trip to hospital or medical voluntarily. It kinda hurts-“

Steve’s eyes narrowed and you corrected yourself when wordlessly called out on your bullshit.

“-okay, kinda a lot, but it’s not as bad, considering…“

Steve closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, only to slowly release it and giving the lawyer a look radiating immense gratitude, despite him probably not being able to see it. Which, _what the hell, _by the way.

_“Thank you.”_

Matt Murdock only smiled humbly and nodded, at which Steve returned his attention to you. Taking him in, you only thought of four words.

Exhausted.

Serious.

Relieved.

_Injured_.

He didn’t sustain any life-threatening injuries, as much as you could tell, but you did smell and see blood on him and since his opponents had been fucking _robots,_ it was definitely his own. There was an angrily-looking gash on his forehead, but not bleeding anymore, few more scratches peeking through his sliced clothes.

Still. He was not unharmed.

“You’re hurt too,” you whispered. Your company clearly decided that it was the right moment to leave you some privacy and went to discuss other things. A game plan, perhaps. The causes in the first place. Oh, and who the hell was Matt Murdock anyway. You only had eyes for Steve now though. “How do you feel?”

His shoulders slumped, careful hand tenderly brushing your cheek, his eyebrow furrowing in concern and indignation.

“Like I can’t decide whether smothering you for not running like your life depended on it – which it _did_ – is an option,” he said honestly, eyeing your injured shoulder.

“That’s fair,” you hummed, not surprised. If he could be sassy though, so could you. “But consider this: I have a great role-model for heroics in my soulmate, so there’s no wonder I tried to help, as pathetically as I did at least.”

His lips parted at the implication of your behaviour being even remotely his fault, but you could tell he was too relieved to be actually mad at you.

“Smothering it is.”

You chuckled, trying not to wince at the tiny motion of your body that sent a fresh wave of pain through you.

“…can I have my arm checked first though? Also, I think you have bigger problems than me coordinating the rescue…”

Steve unwillingly casted a glance to the group of his friends, who all glared at Tony Stark, before looking back at you.

“My biggest problem right now is to get you some medical attention. Then, yes, it does look like I have things to deal with. But remember, doll. You are _not_ off the hook.”

You smiled at him sweetly and kissed his cheek.

“A troublemaker like me? Wouldn’t dream of it…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This spiralled quickly, didn’t it? :D Also, I couldn’t resist little Matty in here since I introduced him to Bucky in the previous part of the series ;)


	4. What you need (...is what I'm about)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …aka the big reveal concerning Bucky and introducing Maximoffs. Brace yourself… just kidding.

You watched the kettle shaking and jumping as the temperature of the water climbed towards the boiling point. You’d like to say your blood was reaching it too, but despite the warm hoodie (Steve’s, naturally), you were feeling cold seeping into your very core.

You hated waiting for him. You had never been a fan of it, sitting on your ass and stressing until he returned from a mission, bruised and usually bloody, but this time it was something else. This time, you had more than just a vague idea of what he was fighting; you had witnessed it first-hand. An army of fucking _robots_.

The team had left 43 hours ago, but who the hell was counting, right? Certainly not you. And you had certainly not been feeling the urge to ask Jarvis _(R.I.P., my beloved A.I.)_ like every half an hour for any updates. You weren’t that desperate. You weren’t _that _scared-

Yeah, not even you were having your bullshit anymore.

You were shivering in cold from losing sleep, terrified and overall out of your mind. Nothing helped to ease your worries. Definitely not the fact they hadn’t made any contact ever since they had left.

_They_ consisted of the usual Avengers team; Nat, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Thor, plus Bucky. All of them under Steve’s attentive command.

Surprisingly, Matt Murdock – also known as a freaking vigilante (a blind lawyer!!) – did not join the quest. He had said that robots were way outside his territory. You would beg to differ, because he punched the robots like a champ, yet you didn’t quite blame him for refusing. Bottomline, you still thought he was pretty swell (not to mention easy on the eyes, but that was beside the point). He had saved your life though, so you might be a bit biased. A lot biased.

Sam Wilson might have fought once too, but he would sit this one out as well. It was not helping your anxiety.

The soft click of the kettle brought you back to reality and you grabbed the handle to pour water into your mug, only to see you failed to actually put a teabag in it.

To be fair, you would have sworn you had done it, but that was just another prove of you losing your mind. At this rate you were about to burn the kitchen down – not that you felt like cooking or eating for that matter. Steve was out there, in his own sci-fi movie that had somehow become reality and-

You sighed and set the kettle down, reaching for the box with chamomile tea. Taking one bag, you felt a strange gust of wind and curled into the hoodie as a shiver ran down your spine. Was the air-conditioning misbehaving…? Perhaps it was an aftermath of what they called Ultron’s mess-

You shook your head, scolding yourself for getting paranoid and went to finally finish the simplest task of making yourself tea.

Only for your blood turning to ice when you noticed the teabag was missing. You had just _put it there_ half a minute ago, you were _sure_ of it. Your heart started hammering in your chest wildly as you spun on your heels, your eyes scanning the room.

The cupboard behind your head clacked and your head swiftly snapped back to it. Feeling your own pulse hammering in your temples, you forced your brain to come up with a rational explanation.

You were losing your mind, you were imagining things, you hadn’t slept in almost two days, your mind was playing tricks on you-

Another gust of wind and the kettle disappeared from your hands, a shriek escaping your lips. On instinct, you opened the drawer and pulled out a knife. You were probably useless with it, basically offering it the potential attacker as a weapon, because they would be able to disarm you and use it to their advantage, but you didn’t give a shit, you felt better being armed.

What the fuck was happening?!

A man suddenly appeared by your left hip, like a hurricane inside of the room, and your body acted on its own, driving the knife in his side.

Or you attempted to; the knife met something solid that could not have been a body and the blond – he was a blond man, younger, hell, looking younger than you, dressed in a jumpsuit – stared at you with his mouth hanging open.

It was only then when you registered a strange red matter- no, something unsubstantial, like an energy, swirling and changing, hovering around the blade that had stopped an inch from the man’s torso.

_“Taka se ubivate, kolibri,”_ a female voice sounded from the other side of the room, sending you into a cardiac arrest.

Yet, you couldn’t tear you gaze away from the strange man, whose face was now twisted in annoyed grimace as the woman seemed to be scolding him.

What kind of a language was that anyway?

_Really not relevant._

There were two strangers in the Tower, in the very same room as you, they could be talking about how to kill you the most painful way and you wouldn’t even know, and _for fuck’s sake,_ why couldn’t you catch a _break-_

_“Ne ti e zabavno, __foĭerverk,”_ he hummed back, his lips spreading in a smile, baffling you to no end. _“Zdraveĭ, krasavitse.”_

Your hand still on the handle of the knife that was no longer under your control, of which you refused to let go though, because you were not a _complete idiot,_ you had no idea what to do.

The man sounded almost friendly, but then again, villains often did. Sleazy. You would know.

A tremble ran through your body and out of nowhere, you made a lightning-fast decision of kicking the man in the crotch.

Your knee only brushed his manhood when your leg was no longer yours. With horror filling every cell in your body, you realized it was caught in the freaky red spiderweb of energy, and you couldn’t move it no matter how much you tried.

Tears filled your eyes and suddenly you were free, the man several feet from you. A gorgeous young woman, dressed even more strangely than him – crimson leather jacket, black and half-torn leather jacket with high boots with way too many straps, her outfit completed by sleeves peeking from under her jacket –, stood next to him, cuffing him in the back of his head.

_“Idiot!”_ she hissed and in the back of your mind, the one tiny corner that was not occupied with the fact you might die in the next second, you thanked god for some words being international.

Then, the girl with long wild red hair smiled at you apologetically, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Hello. Sorry for startling you,” she spoke with thick accent which you identified as Eastern-European and shot her companion a murderous look. “My brother is an ass and doesn’t know the difference between being funny and scaring people.”

She didn’t sound menacing and all; in fact, you saw every responsible older sibling annoyed at their younger family member in her. You blinked away the sting in your eyes and attempted to focus despite the ringing in your ears.

“Huh?” slipped from your lips intelligently, utter confusion gradually replacing your despair.

The blond rolled his eyes, which only earned him another clip round his ear.

“See what you’ve done? This is all your fault!”

“I was just messing around!”

“Do you have any idea what she’s been through? You scared her to death!” the woman hissed, effectively sending you back to the spiral of dismay, your slowly calming heartbeat skyrocketing again.

What did _she_ know about what you had been through?!

Your knees wobbly, not to be trusted to keep you upright on their own anymore, you gripped the counter behind you with such force your muscles cramped.

“Who- who are you?” you breathed out shakily, catching the attention of the supposed sibling duo once more.

The woman smiled warmly, patronizingly almost.

“My name is Wanda and this is my brother, Pietro. We are of Sokovia. Your Captain and the other Avengers found us, showing us that we were fighting on the wrong side of things. Would you like to see?”

Her words echoed in your suddenly dull skull, the meaning escaping you.

And because her last sentence was what made sense the most and yet the least, you nodded.

Later, you would realize just how stupid and trusting you had been when agreeing, mostly because Steve gave you his look of disappointment and horror, but at the moment, it seemed right.

Somehow, on a level you couldn’t quite comprehend, you already understood they weren’t a threat to you.

“See how?”

_Wanda_ smiled.

_*Like this,*_ a ghost of her voice sounded somewhere deep in your mind, making you dizzy. What the _hell-?_ _*Please, don’t judge me. I thought I was doing the right thing.*_

Before you could question such statement or the fact her lips were not moving while you heard her voice crystal clear, you were thrown into a vortex.

\---

Ultron had been sure they were coming; he left a bait for them, a track easy to follow. The track they could easily follow towards their end.

Wanda wasn’t one to enjoy killing or hurting people in general, no. She hadn’t even considered herself a strong person once, but that had all changed with their parent’s deaths. She had had to rely on herself – on herself and on her brother. Where an opportunity had risen, to step up their game _and _possibly to get revenge on the name still haunting them in their worst nightmares, they hadn’t even hesitated.

Wanda had once been a weakling. It had been the tempering in fire, in a burning pain of experimentation with the sceptre that had made her the woman who she was now.

And she had a mission; she and Pietro had a mission, their chance at revenge finally gaining a shape.

She had already played with Stark’s mind, with the scum only interested in money and destruction; now she could do the same to all of them.

Bursting in with a crash, they clearly hadn’t expected such livid counterattack. A response so… nightmare-like.

Just a flick of wrist and a little concentration on Wanda’s part and they were dropping like dead, trapped in their own minds.

Black Widow, locked in a scary base, ballet dancers, martial art training and merciless killing, her own fears creating a new horror picture of aiming her gun at her current lover’s head, at her soulmate.

_“I should have known you’d never change. You’re nothing but a human reduced to a murder machine…”_

Thor, oh so mighty God, travelling back to his home planet to a feast, legends messing with his headspace, confusion and helplessness, thunder and lightning all around and out of his control.

_“You’ll kill us all! See, son of Odin, close your eyes and see!”_

The righteous captain, trapped in his own headspace, folded like a house of cards under his soulmate’s dead eyes, anger and accusation blossoming into hate and finally indifference.

_“You cared about your 40’s sweetheart more, anyway, didn’t you? If it was her in my place, you would have chosen her before the thousands. You wouldn’t let **her** blow up to shreds…”_

Satisfied with her work, with only a nudge to their consciousness, their own brain doing the work for her, she smirked as she noticed the busy archer. Now what tricks his could mind come up with? What hardship would he get caught in?

As she slowly sneaked behind his back, a voice snarled behind her, causing her heart to stop from more than a simple fright.

_“Kak mozhe neshto tolkova malko da prichini tolkova nepriyatnosti?” _

Her first reaction to the blood crystallizing in her veins with horror and rage towards the whole fucking universe was a snarky reply.

How dared he to call her small? Implying she was weak? Underestimating her that she couldn’t cause any real trouble? Oh, she would show him… that arrogant bastard! She would show him _trouble-_

_“Laĭna…ti **mi** narichash nepriyatnosti?” _she hissed back, carelessly losing the sight of the archer, not interested in him in the slightest all of sudden._ “Vie ste strana s greshni khora!” _

This stranger, this—this man-machine radiating pain when her powers as much as brushed the surface of his mind on instinct… he was the real trouble as she didn’t hesitate to tell him. He was on the wrong side of things! Fraternizing with a mass murdered, with her parent’s killer-

_“Pone te sa kho—”_ he wanted to argue, but they his mind stopped before it started screaming, punching her telepathic powers she suddenly couldn’t turn off.

Memories, dozen of his own memories, the way he looked at his soulmark in a mirror, the pain, the sorrow, the torture… the encounters and living with them, with the band of heroes she just put down, one by one, teasing and laughter, compassion and acceptance, even from the man who was supposed to be nothing but a cocky heartless bastard-

“What the **hell** did you just say?” he rasped, astonished and horrified.

He realized it too then. Everyone always did, didn’t they? Because every person with a soulmark awaited a moment like this; the moment someone would finally meet the words on their skin, perhaps met their expectations…

But Bucky Burnes was the farthest from Wanda’s dream when it came to a life-long partner.

_Strength is tempered in fire,_ she remembered reading once. She had once found a special irony in the fact that the treatment by the sceptre felt exactly like that. Wanda’s soul turned to steel with the games the fate had played with her.

So why did her hands fell from their defensive position to her side, limp and drained of all strength and determination they had known, tears stinging her eyes.

Her life was shit and she had thought she had made her peace with that. Apparently, she had been holding out for her soulmate more than she had thought.

Because why else would it hurt so dully in her chest when she found out he was an enemy?

“And I thought Romeo and Juliet was just a lot of crap,” she chuckled bitterly, switching to English when he did.

His thoughts scream at her, disbelief, caution, pain, confusion, regret and hope— ambivalence. He had no idea what to do and he hated her for what she had done to his friends, but the knowledge of her being _his_, supposedly, it torn him in half, reaching out with willingness to forgive her if she fixed it, because if anyone understood fighting at the wrong side it was him--

Unable to resist, she dug deeper into his mind, baring his very soul, fascinated.

Pietro was still fighting with the archer and _Stark_, dodging the lame attempts at attack of the Avengers lost in their minds, but for two people, the time stopped.

They stood against each other, starring and Wanda was confident she saw more than him. His mind was a tangled mess of emotions and desperate desire to get a hold of them and think rationally, bundle of memories and hopes colliding with reality and rock-solid facts and Wanda felt a pang at her heart, a crushing sensation in her chest when she finally embraced everything his headspace had to offer, getting lost in it.

In him.

He had a beautiful soul. Torn and glued together with little kind gestures from his friends, sweet memories of his sister and everlasting friendship with Steve, his not-so-little-anymore-but-equally-stubborn Steve, Steve’s soulmate, his teammates that accepted Bucky with surprising ease and less judgement anyone would deserve… and the careful way he was giving away the pieces of the very same heart that was barely together, in gentle smiles and good-natured teasing, silent self-declaration of giving his whole life for every single one member of his new-found family that wasn’t tied with blood.

And Wanda understood. In a fraction of second she looked under the illusions she had helped to build in the Avengers’ minds and saw the truth.

_*Pietro, spri!*_ she cried out straight into his mind, begging him to stop fighting. With another flick of her wrist, her enemies were free of her handiwork, shell-shocked from the experience, barely finding their footing. _“Brat, spri! Pietro… greshim._ They are right.”

The battle froze as if the time did and for a second, Wanda felt like she was in her brother’s skin, moving so fast that the world around her stopped turning. The stunned silence was only broken by a soft gush of wind when Pietro appeared by her side.

The Avengers seemed so baffled at her admission they didn’t try to attack them.

She exchanged a look with her twin, hoping her face spoke volumes as tears gathered in her eyes. She was far from convinced that Anthony Stark was a good man; but she knew he was better than the creature they had sworn to assist. And her mother always used to say that a man should be judged by the company he kept. From what she had seen in Bucky Barnes’ head, Stark had one bunch of fine people; and their imperfections seemed to be balanced by the good they all wished to make.

Pietro understood. Of course he would. More than he could read her expression, he must have felt the change in her aura, the transformation touching their bond as well.

He graced her with a reluctant nod of agreement. Via their mental connection, he whispered he trusted her. Her lips curled up in a tender smile.

“Are we just gonna stand here? Are we fighting together or against each other or _what?!”_

No, Tony Stark was by no means a man she would call _kind._ In fact, she already found out he was an ass. But now, he had become her ally.

From all the eyes on their duo, she chose to meet her soulmate’s.

“Together, Anthony. Because there’s bigger malice in this world than you are.”

\---

Wanda nearly cut you off right then. The rest of what she showed was a blur of images, fear, pain and determination, destruction and cooperation, all of that leading to this very moment. It all resembled waking up from a very intense confusing dream, being pulled away into consciousness by the first sunrays of the dawn.

You blinked heavily as the world swayed off its place, the counter seemingly in a peculiar angle from your point of view.

Why was the lamp not up, but on the side? Why was it spinning?

“Oops. Sorry. Never made the connection for such a long period of time-“ a voice reached you, breaking through the hush of blood and your own heartbeat in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get a fucking grip on both your body and thoughts.

Bucky had a soulmate?

No, not relevant, the images were too unclear for you to be sure everyone made it out alright, you needed to see Steve first, you had to-

By the time Steve’s figure appeared in your field of vision, you were certain you were steady on your feet and finally managed to control your mouth.

“Steve!” you cried out excitedly as you sprang his direction, relief mixing with delight, because he was alive, he was not bleeding visibly, he-

-was suddenly graced with his identical twin, two loving tired smiles blending into one and splitting into two the next moment, swimming in your eyes and you felt something solid grabbing your body and positioning it right into his strong arms.

You gazed at him in haze, melting into his warm and firm embrace, spotting a swirl of red energy flow around you.

Oh. Wanda’s work, no doubt. Sweet.

“Are you okay, doll? Are you sick? What happened?”

Wanda’s guilt nearly solid in your reach, you only let your head lull onto Steve’s shoulder, plunging into the fluff of love his presence offered.

“Nah. I’m fine… just drunk on your presence…” you mumbled.

The girl’s bubbly relieved laughter rang in the room, bringing a satisfied smile on your face.

Steve’s kiss landed on your forehead, corners of his own lips upright despite the concern in his voice.

“Alright, sweetheart. Let’s just get you to bed…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose Bulgarian, just to avoid traditional Russian this once. Bucky is a Winter soldier after all and he should know how to speak 30 languages :D And Wanda just has thick Eastern European accent, thought this would work. Google translator used; apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> Also, sooorry for not quite having a grip on Bucky. He only appeared for a moment, I know, but he was there! O:-) Be gentle with me – or not. Just lemme know what ran through your head during this chapter, if you’re willing. Thank you for reading :-*


	5. If one should fall... (1/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which distribution of forces on the stones-retrieving mission changes. Because— reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enormous time skip, because the title is still applicable and somehow… it felt right to connect the chapters like this. Do not murder me…?
> 
> **Endgame and Infinity War spoilers.** You've been warned, even though there is a slight canon divergence, obviously.

Forever was a funny word. A funny concept, perhaps. People always said they wished for some moments to last forever and what they meant was for them to last as long as possible, with no change in sight. Or they said that something unpleasant felt like it lasted forever, their souls craving an end of the misery, a fundamental change as the polar opposite to the first case.

You knew both in the past years.

Sitting on your ass in a Wakandian palace, watching a battle unfold in front of you, an ensemble of great warriors fighting yet another army from space, _that_ felt like forever, a never-ending nightmare and you only got to watch.

It set a pattern for you for several more years to come. _To only watch._

You watched an alien creature steal the sceptre that the Avengers had decided to store in the palace and it did so while killing everything in its way. Princess Shuri had the great idea of hiding you and cuffing you so you wouldn’t stand in the creature’s path while she tried to stop it with the others. She ended up in shattered glass, only unconscious, as if thanks to a miracle.

You watched as… as she fell apart to ashes only minutes later; just like many, _oh so many _others.

Half of the population, they said.

Thanos, The Mad Titan, had wiped _half_ of all living creatures.

The moment was carved into your brain _forever_. And the eternal time you waited for anyone to come back from the battle, to see _Steve_ alive, because God, please, at least let _him_ live – yes, that sure as hell felt like forever.

Lives were lost. Bucky, Sam, Ryan, Wanda, Pietro, Peter, Shuri, T’Challa, Strange, Fury… the list going on and on – gone. _Forever_.

The world changed. The mission of the Avengers’ – who now officially didn’t exist and yet recruited new members all over the freakin’ _space_, which was the only way of finding out Tony Stark, who had disappeared on a _spaceship_, in fact, survived – changed as well. Some took off to start a family, lucky enough to still have a partner to do so. Or to have the ability to pass their genes.

You couldn’t. Or maybe Steve couldn’t, it didn’t matter. You never pried after the source of your inability to have children; you two were one, a unity. You didn’t want to know so you could point fingers. You could tell Steve blamed himself, as well as he knew that your irregular period was definitely not helping. You made your peace. In fact, you admired Tony for finding the courage to create an environment for a child in this mad world; your insecurities ironically helped you to come to term with the fact of your body not functioning right.

In a way, it only drew you and Steve closer. You had valued each other before, but now… you truly were like one. You backed him up in how he decided to honour Sam’s memory by starting a support group and he was the one to sense that in a search for reassurance, strangely materialistic, you craved an official bond with him, despite never telling a word. You were Steve’s wife now – and you were each other’s rock, even during the poor attempt at defeating Thanos again.

Five years was a long time, a _forever_, one might say, but when Scott Lang, one of the people believed to been dusted reappeared, _forever_ and _never_ became relative again.

Which led you to now; what was left of the Earth’s mightiest heroes was planning on retrieving the infinity stones.

Because they figured out how to _time-travel._

Observing your reflection in the mirror, the dark circles under your eyes, the pale skin, you couldn’t but run your hand down your face and sigh.

You were still struggling with accepting the incredible fact of the possibility of coming back in time, yet you had to shush the hope inside you. Hope was a dangerous thing – hope that everything could be as it had been somehow, hope that all the people who had lost their lives during the Snap, could be resurrected.

As for a person who in fact had died once, it was easier for you to believe it and you weren’t sure that it was a good thing. The fear of losing what you still had – read _Steve_, mainly – in the process, was paralyzing. It would mean your end, one you might deliver by yourself if it came to it, because you weren’t as strong as your husband. You wouldn’t make it through. Not after everything that happened.

You sighed again and tried to shake off the darkest thoughts.

When your eyes fell on the reflection again, a man stood behind your shoulder.

You spun on your heels and jerked away, your bottom bumping into the sink with a startled yelp escaping your lips.

In a fraction of second, several ways of defending yourself flashed through you mind; but the man was already three feet away; in a blink of an eye.

Chest heaving with furious breaths, hand over your heart, you stared at the intruder dressed in a three-piece suit and a red cravat. Of average height and maybe few pounds over healthy weight, smoothly shaven so his smirk could stand out, he looked… peculiar, especially given the fact he had found himself in the ladies’ room.

It shouldn’t have surprised you he spoke up with some kind of an accent on top of everything, but it did.

“Saving the world is exhausting, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, speechless. Your brain was kicked into an overdrive, analysing how much of a threat he was, if he was like Pietro, too fast for Friday to catch him, or _what_ was he-

“Who the-“

“I’m Crowley, darling. And you don’t need look so scared. If I wanted you dead, you would already lie here in a puddle of blood,” he reassured you like a sleazy businessman, all pretence at kindness.

You winced at the visual and narrowed your eyes.

“Alright, _Crowley_, what do you want? And what exactly are you?” you demanded, uncertain why you felt calm despite the man appearing out of thin air and speaking of you dying in the bloodiest way. Were you truly so numb these days?

He smiled, as an old friend almost. “I am a friend of Moose and Squirrel-“ _What._ “-or Sam and Dean, as you know them. I have no doubt they mentioned me. After all, my mother is assisting them more than she would like. You met her, incidentally.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure it out – you hadn’t met many people during your time with the Winchesters. This man… was probably a warlock. A _witch_. Rowena apparently had a _son_.

Well. _Shit_.

“Okay. So… you’re a witch or something. Means I shouldn’t trust you fully. Noted. Now what do you want?”

His face twisted in a theatrical insulted grimace, his palm laid on his chest as if you just shot him through the heart – which, by the way, would probably do nothing to him.

“First of all, I am here to _help,_ so I don’t think you have other option than trusting me. Second of all, I am _not_ a witch, I am the King of Hell, thank you very much-“ Somewhere in the back of your mind, Sam Winchester’s voice whispered something about the king of Hell being Dean’s bestie for a while, which did _not_ make you feel any better, only more confused. “And thirdly… I’m here to tell you what _you, _my darling, need to do for this mission to be successful.”

You stared at him incredulously, his casual stance and animated speech, and had no clue what to make of it.

Yet, you let him speak. You let him give you the advice no one ever wanted to receive. _Ever. _But this sleazy man had told you about how he had saved the world before, side by side with the Winchesters and everything suddenly made sense.

Crowley, the king of Hell, answered the most burning question you had been asking yourself ever since coming back from the death, more and more often these days.

_Why. _

_Why_ were you given the second chance at life? Why you of all people? What was the purpose?

And now you knew.

Rowena was the greatest witch the supernatural world had ever created and she looked through all the possible futures she could. Tony had once told you, drunk and hurting, that Strange had done the same right before the battle and he only saw one way of how it could end with Thanos’ loss. Now Crowley told you the ‘one’ future was still in play, that everything was actually still on the way to the world’s victory.

The price of victory was high. History had taught you that.

But the price people paid for losing was higher.

And as much as you hated what you apparently had to do…

“Okay,” you rasped, guilt already gnawing at your chest, tears strolling down your face, fear eating you up from the inside, fear of unknown and yet known, instincts fighting the urge to do the right thing and finally actually _help_ to the heroes you found yourself among while still useless.

You were _only watching_ too long. _Forever,_ one might say.

“Okay?” he echoed, clearly surprised by your antics.

You only nodded, wiping away your tears and forcing your breathing to calm and steady. There was no way you could go back to the base of operating in the living room like this. You needed to be a fucking grown-up. Grown-ups had to be okay with not being okay. You must finally become worthy of being Captain Amer- _Steve’s_ wife.

“Yes, Crowley. I’ll do it. Though I still have no idea why did you come here to tell me. Aren’t you supposed to be the bad guy?” you teased him lightly, your mouth speaking its will without permission, the question only half-expecting an answer.

“Well, my darling. It’s the end of the world as we know it. It doesn’t matter now if you’re good or bad. Not if you want the world _not_ to end.”

\---

You were a terrible actress; a Razzies-nominee kind of actress. You couldn’t lie to save your life (the irony of such statement was not lost on you, yet it wasn’t properly appreciated either) and you were aware of the fact Steve liked that about you. You could never lie to him. So you never tried.

You knew you couldn’t break that streak now, because he would see right through you. So you stooped lower than ever. _Omitting the truth. _Lying by not sharing the whole story. Whether you could make that work, only time would tell.

When you finally managed to compose yourself – at least more or less – and exited the bathroom, you found out that not much had changed. The team was still debating the details of best approach, uncertain but determined expressions on their faces.

Steve spared once glace at you and instantly was able to tell something was wrong. He hid you from the view of the others by his broad figure, concerned eyes scanning your face, observing and searching for any clue of the source of your distress. As if the fact they were – you _all_ were, even if they didn’t know yet – about to time travel wasn’t enough.

His tender fingers tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear as if it would help the mess your hairstyle must have been. A small encouraging smile graced his lips despite his own mind no doubt weighted down by numerous worries.

He didn’t have to ask for you to start talking, the brilliant colour of his eyes sweet and inviting.

“What if something goes wrong?” you questioned in a hushed whisper, not having to pretend the haunting thought. “What if… I don’t even want to think about what could it be. You’re going to need someone capable to pull you out. I am… I am not that capable. Definitely not when it comes to science of time-travel.”

Despite Steve acting like a human shield, your concerns were noticed by everyone, their heads whipping your direction. Steve, feeling all the curious eyes, cleared his throat and gently took your arm, leading you away from the prying ears.

“….excuse us for a second,” he hummed absently, waiting until he was out of earshot to speak with you again. “Doll… what- what is this really about?”

“What do you mean-“ you bluffed lamely at instant, but the look he gave you shut you up.

“I know you, sweetheart. You can’t lie to me.”

If you weren’t dreading what you were about to do, you might throw a _‘watch me’ _back at him. Instead, you aimed for an irritated tone – one that would be justified in case he would truly be questioning the claim you were about to point out.

“So you think I’m _not_ afraid for you?”

A frown crossed over his face, his palm on your bicep tightening before he eased his hold to brush his thumb over the very same spot. “No! That’s not- I know there’s something more. What is it?”

Gulping and averting his gaze, because the intense burn of genuine interest was unbearable, your mind raced with the effort to find the right words.

Your stomach was tied in tight knots, yet turning at the idea of playing Steve, more so for such nefarious purpose. But how else you could have convinced him that it couldn’t in fact be him and Natasha going to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone?

“I… I want to help. I need to help, Steve. You’re— you're so strong, always the hero and I’m not even close, I-“

“-need to prove my worth?” he finished easily, a knowing look in his eyes, and _fuck him_, how did he know—while he didn’t understand fully, while he had no way of knowing what Crowley told you to do, Steve was still able to recognize what fuelled your determination, what were your motives.

You opened your mouth uselessly, a shaky exhale brushing Steve’s face as he lowered his head to you, his eyes wide and genuinely troubled. God, you couldn’t bare the intensity of his gaze.

“Christ, doll. Where’s this coming from? Don’t be rid-“ From the corner of your eye, you saw him lick his lips as he swiftly cut himself off before calling you _ridiculous. _His large warm palms framed your face, forcing you to lock your gaze with him, passionate words accented by the burning fire of his irises. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not to them, certainly not to _me._ You are my everything and you are the most amazing person I have ever met-“

You closed your eyes, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite your better judgement. You never doubted Steve’s feelings, yet he was always quick to reassure you, having the patience of the saint whenever he noticed a hint of insecurity.

“I know. I swear I know that, I know how you feel, but- let me do this. What if… what if you don’t come back? What if you don’t come back and I’d be just sitting here, _knowing_ I could have done something, but I didn’t. You’re too familiar with that feeling, Steve. Please. Let me come with you,” you pleaded in a hushed voice, hating you reminded him of losing you, but knowing it might be effective. “You know you can protect me when it comes to it.”

Brows furrowed, Steve observed you, baffled and yet understanding at the same time, torn between the instinct to have you protected at the compound and the responsibility he felt towards this mission. This was the fight of your lives; deep down, he must have known he couldn’t afford to jeopardize that for you. Which, naturally, didn’t mean he had to _like _it.

A clearing of one’s throat that sounded a bit like a clap of thunder interrupted your staring contest and you both glanced Bruce’s huge green form in the doorway, sheepish expression comical on his massive face.

“…sorry to interrupt, but… we kinda all think she has a point so-“

Steve’s sucked in air between his teeth, letting his hands drop from you face, only for one of them to ran through his hair, the other balling in a fist he rested his chin on, lost in thought.

You shrugged, the battle of emotions – victory and defeat at the same time, because God, _why – _no doubt visible on your face as Steve turned his attention solely to you once more.

“I’ll give you guys another sec…” Bruce hummed, backing out of the door, leaving you to deal with clearly irritated and reluctant Steve.

_Thanks, buddy._

Wordlessly, Steve’s fingers slipped beneath your jaw, pulling you in for one of the strangest kisses of your life, emotions poured into one simple gesture, hungry and intense, intimate wet sound of a dirty encounter of mouths echoing in the otherwise silent room. You allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of Steve’s lips in yours, in his arm grabbing you and pressing flush against his hard chest too harsh for anyone to believe it was not a display of affection of a half-desperate man.

Breathless and with vertigo nearly overcoming you, you rested your forehead against Steve’s as you mirror him in his action when he ended the kiss. His eyes were closed shut, as if too heavy to kept open, but you could see something in his expression shifted, Bruce and you winning.

Peripherally, you noticed Crowley’s faint figure, the shortest of appearances as he nodded in approval and goodbye. You suspected he did _something_ so Steve gave in; you didn’t care what and how, hoping it didn’t harm your soulmate. Tears stung in your eyes when you realized what was to come and you forced them to be kept at bay, shutting your eyes close again.

“Fine, have it your way,” Steve rasped, his voice clearly irked, yet resigned. “But if you get _one_ scratch on you, doll, _just one,_ I’ll hold you responsible”

_No, you won’t. _

You charmed a guilty smile, lame tiny thing and he inhaled sharply, only for huffing the air out.

“How could I, having my chivalrous man by my side?”

It earned you a kiss on your forehead, Steve’s fingers interlacing with yours when you made your way back to the other room, where everyone waited.

Oh, how much it now hurt, the amount of faith Steve could put into you, charmed by your teary smile, that little thing puling on his heartstrings.

Oh, just how much it _would _hurt…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might seem a bit strange, but hopefully it fits the atmosphere of Infinity War and Endgame… 
> 
> Thanks for being here. I love you for the encouragement you're giving me :-*


	6. ...we both will drop (2/2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all know what’s coming, don’t we? Some things are simply… inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t kill me. It’s the large scheme shit and all. 
> 
> *runs and hides in somewhere in P- _Europe_*

Everyone on the team had been through having their heart broken at least once; hell, find a one man or a woman of humankind who hadn’t. After the Snap, it was an impossible task; even children, when asked, felt like something was missing to them, feeling a deeply-embedded longing they couldn’t quite comprehend. Surely, they wouldn’t use such big words, having only been five years old now, but the sentiment was all the same.

And when all humanity felt like that, there was little space for hope.

However, the hope that barely started to take roots in the team when they figured out a way to unlimitedly travel in time and space, grew rapidly when Natasha winced in a middle of summarizing the plan once more; only to reveal that the source of pain was… insane.

It was a tattoo-like message on her collarbone. She had received a new set of words. And they happened to be written in Sam Wilson’s handwriting, a sentence little snarky and little sappy and… no one blamed Scott for asking the question that itched everyone on the tip of their tongue.

“So… that means we succeed, right? And they meet again, more or less for the first time? I mean, we already saw a case like that.”

Despite the cold shiver running up your spine, your heart was wrapped in a fluffy warmth at that thought. It would be worth it. _The sacrifice made will be worth it._

You swiftly dried the tear forming in the corner of your eye at the memory of Natasha’s reluctant but bright smile before Steve could notice. You followed him as he climbed towards the peak of which your instincts told you was exactly the place to go.

He was gallantly helping you to follow without a single ‘I told you so,’ even when you slipped and nearly face-planted. Instead, he smiled at you tenderly, concern furrowing his brow, but not once he complained about you being a liability in place of the supposed help you were supposed to provide.

Vormir was an inhospitable planet. All built of rocks, with icy wind, sweeping snowflakes into your face and you were grateful for your gloves and Steve’s broad shoulders that shielded you at least partly.

Finally reaching a plateau, you were welcomed by a creature floating above the surface, his red face, a bald scalp, head stripped to a bone with nearly no skin, muscles or fat, partly hidden by a hood of his tattered cloak.

You never liked studying history, but even you knew who this was – or who he seemed to be. If Steve’s face and posture was anything to go by, he thought the same.

But that couldn’t be, right? The Red Skull had died- _disappeared when touching an Infinity Stone._ Would it really be so crazy if he was still connected to one?

“Steven, son of Sarah,” the peculiar creature welcomed your soulmate with a hiss, repeating a greeting of similar nature with you, only showing off he knew your father’s name, not mother’s like with Steve, and obviously calling you a daughter.

Which wasn’t creepy at all.

“You-“ Steve only growled and was already lunging at the man, only for his body to go through him as if the figure was nothing but a unsubstantial illusion.

You yelped in fright for Steve, but he didn’t even fall to the ground, his training preparing him for more surprising situations that his opponent being immaterial.

The Red Skull appeared to be annoyed at Steve’s antics at best; he didn’t make any attempt at attacking either him or you, only watching you with freakily knowing gaze as if he already learned your purpose here. Which was impossible, right?

But was it?

“Steve… I don’t think we need to fight him,” you whispered, averting the piercing glare of the Skull on you.

Steve looked at you as if you were crazy and threw himself on the cloaked figure again; _shockingly_, with the very same result.

It was an irony for God’s pleasure, you guessed, Steve fighting an old enemy, an enemy that couldn’t be defeated it seemed. Funny metaphor of his life no one laughed at. Certainly not you.

Feeling two pairs of eyes on you now, you shivered.

“You don’t, indeed,” the Skull howled over the wind that picked up. “I know why are you here and I only act as a guide. No matter how much I’d like to go another round with you, Captain, that is all I am.”

Steve snarled, but didn’t come after him again, stopping in mid-motion when you gently placed a hand of his shoulder. He ended up only leaning forward, ready to strike, shield in his hand.

He was handsome even with the scowl on his face, you thought absently and quickly brushed it off, scolding yourself for such ideas in a time like this. But why wouldn’t you let your mind wander into such territory? At the moment, you felt strangely detached to the whole scene in front of you. You wondered if that would change or if you could fulfil your purpose with your soul at peace.

“Then guide us,” Steve hissed, protectively standing between you and the Red Skull.

“Careful what you wish for, Captain.”

You followed the floating figure towards the edge of the plateau, stopping several feet from bottomless gulf.

You closed your eyes when the vertigo overtook you, the crushing weight of your mission causing you to sway. Steve allowed you to lean onto his body, your palm sprawled across his chest, and he pulled you even farther from the edge into safer distance.

“Why are you showing us this?”

“Because that is the face of destiny you’re staring into,” your guide explained, a smirk forming on his face. Steve instantly let you go in favour to brace himself for the fight to come. Except you already knew it wouldn’t come; not a fight Steve was readying himself for. “I’m not gonna push either of you, Captain. You manage that on your own.”

“What makes you think we would _ever_ do that?”

“The fact that it’s what we need to do to get the Stone,” you answered quietly to question Steve had spitted out, earning a horrified glance from him.

“Indeed. A Soul Stone is a special entity. To get a hold of it, you must sacrifice a soul. You have found yourself a smart wife, Captain, for she knows this. Too bad she won’t be able to make it back.”

“Over my _dead_ _body,”_ Steve snarled and for a good measure grabbed your hand and dragged you away from the floating figure.

“That certainly is an option too.”

“Fuck. You. _Liar!” _Steve snapped at him and not even his anger moved you this time. Anger was good. Anger was familiar and in a pleasant contrast to your calm returning.

“Am I? Or does your team have another explanation for Gamora’s death? Never in my lifetime I thought I’d see a Titan shed tears…” the guide mused.

Steve’s eyes met yours as he faced you and what he saw in them must have shook him to a core, because his face lost all colour, his irises flashing with rage and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“He’s a slippery bastard, doll. I don’t trust one word-“

Denial. The other thing you saw in his eyes was _denial._

“I do,” you breathed out softly, tears finally appearing in your eyes as your scarily high walls that had kept you detached from the whole ordeal came slowly crumbling down. “Thanos arrived here with whom he considered his daughter. And she didn’t make it back.”

Your heart skipped a beat, startled when Steve’s large palms gripped your shoulders and shook you.

“He’s tricking us, that’s what he does! Don’t let him play with your head,” he thundered, his fingers digging into your muscle even through your thick coat, strong enough to bruise.

Swallowing thickly as Steve stared at you, pleading, determined and still unwilling to accept the reality laid in front of him, you forced yourself not to avert his gaze, when you responded in a whisper, a sound nearly lost in the howling wind.

“You know he’s telling the truth, Steve.”

You felt hollow. The cold started to seep through your clothing, or maybe it was coming from the inside, leaving your fingers and nose freezing in a desperate attempt to warm your body up.

Steve’s hands slid from your shoulders as if they lost all strength, his own shoulders slumping, light shake of his head when he turned away from you, fingers plunging in his hair for the shortest of moments before facing you again.

You could see the shift in his attitude; you could see the fight vaporizing from his body, all harshness dissolved and blossoming into tenderness you didn’t deserve at the moment.

Yet you let him touch you, eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation, ignoring the weight in your stomach and letting yourself indulge the kindness of his touch. A lightest brush of fingers along your jaw, over your cheekbones, the pad of is thumb running over your no doubt purple lips.

He was committing himself to a memory of you and you loved him for it more than you could put into words, warm tears escaping from under your eyelids. He was a good man. Once again, he understood what had to be done and that for some reason, God seemed to hate him, asking him to sacrifice his own happiness in favour of others. He had to let you go.

“Then I go,” he breathed out and you snapped your eyes open, startled. _Of course,_ he got it wrong.

God, you were such an idiot, you should have known.

You threw your arms around him, tight embrace he didn’t fight, burying his face in your neck instead.

“We both know I can’t let you do that, Steve,” you negotiated, allowing the harshness of your attitude – read, thinking he was being utterly stupid – into your voice. He didn’t seem to mind, breathing in deeply, melting into your frame and you _knew_ it was time to act before he could.

You managed to sneak one arm lower, around his waist instead. He just adjusted the hug, his lips brushing your cheek, angrily red from the whips by the biting cold.

“I love you, sweetheart. You were right. You had to come here with me,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard your protest and you squeezed your eyes shut, more burning tears rolling down your cheeks. How much you hated this. “You’ll get the Stone back, yeah? And you live a life. Buck, Sam, Ryan, Pietro… they’ll be back and take care of you. They all love you too. Hey, you might even get a third soulmark-”

“Steve-“ you couldn’t help but growl at his dickish words.

“Shh, doll. It’s all going to be okay. “

Moving your hands over his back as he rubbed to-be-soothing circles on your own, your trembling fingers got a hold of what you were looking for in one of the pockets on his belt. You were a terrible actress, even worse spy, but here you were, succeeding in the worst mission you had ever been given; not that there had been many to compete with.

God sucked as a boss and clearly was short off staff if he was sending king of Hell as his messenger.

You buried your face in Steve’s chest, basking in the warmth he was radiating, the irreplaceable sensation of safety and content his arms around you offered, something you would miss immensely.

“Promise?” you mumbled, choking on a sob, the hatred for yourself deeper than ever in your life.

You needed that promise. What did it matter Steve didn’t know what he was promising? You had no clue what was awaiting you; he couldn’t either. But he was a good man, you had learned that in thousands different ways through your years together.

“Promise.”

“…it’s going to be okay,” you repeated after him and he squeezed you tighter, as much as you squeezed the object in your palm.

“One for the road?” he mumbled, voice shaking, never letting you to answer him before his lips found yours, thirsty and demanding, breathing your soul in, leaving you feel floaty. You nibbled at his lower lip in response, low growl rumbling in his chest, echoing against your own ribcage, the kiss consuming your whole being.

_One for the road,_ your mind parroted dreamily and you instinctively melted into Steve’s frame, indulging the last kiss of your lifetime.

_Christ,_ that fact alone caused your chest to constrict with blinding panic, your tears like waterfalls.

You inhaled shakily as Steve withdrew with a sigh, both of you turning to the Red Skull.

Steve stepped forward, never registering your little theft.

How could he?

He had been through so much, enough punches to his face and back-stabbing for a life-time. He had learned how to stay alert, to expect another blow at any moment. You could tell he was never letting go of that, not entirely, not even with his friends, no matter how it crushed his good soul, his faith in people. He was always ready to look for danger so he could avoid another stab in the back. But not with you.

_Never_ with you.

Which had been exactly what you had relied on when you did what you did.

The analogy with stabbing wasn’t even funny.

“Alright. What do I have to do?” Steve asked with determination, his voice only wavering enough for you to hear it, and the stone-keeper looked at him with one corner of his mouth raised in an evil cocky smirk.

_Bastard. Enjoying this a little too much._

“You mourn, Captain,” he whispered and met your eyes. He must have noticed then, unlike Steve. Or maybe he truly had known all along, even before you had come here.

Seeing Steve already spinning on his heels when he understood the guide was having a wordless conversation with you, you had no time to actually brace yourself before wrapping both of your hands around the handle and driving the blade into your torso.

No one had told you it would hurt like _motherfucker_, but no one had told you how loud Steve’s scream would seem even over the ringing in your ears either.

No one had warned you that pulling the blade away would be really fucking hard, impossible even. But you had lived in the impossible for the past eight years, hadn’t you? You tore it away with a grunt, shocked at the dull agony.

You had planned two stabs, just not to give Steve any ideas, but the blinding pain slowed your movements. Before the tip of the knife could as much as graze your skin for the second time, Steve was easily twisting it from your hold and throwing it away.

You watched the weapon clank on the stony surface of the plateau, leaving droplets of crimson in the snow, hypnotized by the contrast.

The moment Steve’s hands touched you, your knees gave out and the throbbing in the wound intensified as you nearly collapsed to the ground. But he was here – he was always here to catch you, strong arms supporting you and shakily helping you to sit down.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to tear your gaze away from the blood and look up at him. His face was drained of all colour – funny, yours must have too, mustn’t it? –, his expression pure horror, blue and green fighting in his terrified eyes.

“What did you do?” he demanded breathlessly. “Oh god, _what _did you do?!”

You would think it was obvious, but your head spun too much to point that out. Too many words to form. Too much work.

“Played my part,” you mumbled instead.

Inspecting the wound shortly, but very much _painfully_, he was fast to press against it and make you howl in agony. And shit, there was so much blood… who would have thought there would be so much so fast? It was strangely warm against your body, soon cooling off. The contrast was fascinating.

“Fuck- hey, _hey,_ you’re going to be okay! Look at me!” Steve ordered and the commanding voice left your fingers tingling. Or was it the cold? “We’ll get you to the compound and then I’ll be back here, figuring it out, okay? Now, breathe with me and do not-“

You smiled at him kindly or at least you attempted it. He was a true fighter in heart, never giving up. That was why you had needed to injure yourself fatally, which he effectively attempted to avoid when disarming you. But the biting cold prevented your body from resisting the brutal intrusion. The fact you had pulled out the stopper in attempt to stab again had probably helped.

A part of you was getting nauseous at such formulation, at being content at succeeding in… yeah, there was no euphemism for this, it was a fucking suicide. A different part yelled ‘_good’_, because that had been the plan.

What Steve was offering sounded so, so tempting. He would make sure to pamper you when you got to the compound, falling asleep in the chair, holding your hand, sitting guard by your bedside and you would be warm, feeling oh so immensely loved… but you couldn’t allow that.

You forced the next words out of your mouth while your brain yelled at you to just give in and nod instead.

“No. Steve… I’m already half-dead. You need to throw me-“

“NO! No! Not a fucking option! “he bellowed, his vision possibly gaining crimson edges of rage if his expression was anything to go by. It was swimming in front of your eyes, but even in his anger, he was so damn beautiful. A piece of art. Man too beautiful not to be sculptured by angels themselves. “_What were you thinking?!_”

_I hadn’t been thinking. God had. The king of Hell told me to do it. This way we win, you know?_

“We both know I won’t make it there if you try to take me-“

“You _will_!“ he spat back stubbornly, his frame shaking and you suspected it wasn’t because of the temperature. No, either he was pissed off beyond belief or… or scared. Because he was well-aware of the fact you were right.

Your body started feeling like floating, your eyes turning to the sky on their own and you gritted your teeth, fighting it.

Not yet. Not fucking yet. Not until he knew this wasn’t on him, that this was something you simply_ had to_ do.

“Steve, _Stevie_\- this is why I was resurrected. This is it. I go, so you could continue the mission, get the Stone back, fight whatever fight might come. I’m so sorry for this, but you know it has to be me.”

He looked at you with so much hurt in his eyes that you would have thought you stabbed _him, _shaking his head violently, trembling hands pushing harder against your wound and making you let out a sound way too close to a howl. You thought at least. The ringing in your ears was getting louder and the world was losing its colours… or was it like this the whole time, on this planet? You couldn’t remember…

Yet, you would swear there was a crack in his conviction appeared on his face, one he swiftly disguised and shook off, determination replacing it as he fought the tears streaming down his face. You felt nothing but relief when you realized he started accepting the truth, started accepting what was happening. What had to happen.

_“No._ No, that’s not true.”

Your next words tasted bitter and dripped venom, but you said them anyway, a harsh reminder of your first goodbye. You hated yourself for speaking them; however, Steve _had to_ understand.

“We’re out of time, Steve,” you mumbled, your tongue growing heavy, funny taste on it. “We’re always out of time.”

_“Please,_ doll, not again, I can’t-“ The way he choked on his sob told you your shot found its target, the memory crushing his hope, slowly, but surely forcing him to resign. The calm you had felt when you arrived here returned, embracing you gently and you hoped your attempt at smile turn out decent.

“You can. You’re the brave-“ You hissed in pain as you wanted to straighten yourself just a bit, to be closer to him, instantly regretting not asking Steve to move you instead. _Fuck,_ that hurt. “-bravest person I’ve ever met.”

“That’s _bullshit-”_ he spitted out, but he helped you sit up straighter, allowing you to nearly drown in the pools of his irises.

God, he was so beautiful, even in his grief, eyes red-rimmed, his nose running. He was yours. Always yours, you knew as much.

“My hero-“

“I’m not a Captain for while, you know,” he chucked humourlessly, a glint of something you didn’t like displaying on his face. “Just let me take you-“

“Not the Captain,” you shook your head, lamenting yourself for muddling it up. Calling him your hero was a bad, _very bad_ idea. But you couldn’t think anymore, your head was buzzing with too many thoughts, wrapped in sensation of endless pain radiating from your gut. “You, S-s-stevie. Now let me go.”

_“NO!”_

“If I d-die before-re you throw m-me-“ you negotiated, only to be interrupted by the creature you had completely forgotten was there as well.

“She’s right,” the Red Skull confirmed flatly.

“SHUT THE _FUCK _UP!” Steve roared, not bothering to look at him as he gathered you in his arms, not without a serious wave of vertigo on your part. And pain. Fuck, always pain. Being stabbed fucking _hurt._

He only stood, torn between the tinniest chance at your survival and doing the right thing. It was ridiculous and disgusting how much it reminded you of your first goodbye. Left, or right? You or millions, this time?

“Doll-“

“’s okay, Stevie. I love you. Al-always. Br-- the edge. ‘d let go,” you breathed out, your words slurring as you were losing control. He must throw you soon. That sucked. You would like few more moments with him.

Or a lifetime. Kisses, cuddles, playful lovemaking, friends and kids… maybe you could adopt, or just keep trying…

Steve’s features twisted in denial, jaw clenched, but it did nothing to disguise the tremble in it. His eyes were squeezed shut, glittering drops of salty water escaping, your own waterfalls never stopping. You clenched your teeth with effort to raise your hand, bloody fingers caressing his smooth cheek.

“’s ‘kay.”

He shook his head desperately, but his grip grew firmer, his steps heavy as he carried you to the edge as if he was about to meet his own end.

You swallowed your own sobs.

You didn’t want to die. You wished you could say you were at peace, you had thought you were but you weren’t. Yet, you needed to convince Steve about the opposite – again.

Life was so fucking unfair.

If that was true though… was at least death just?

Your eyes flickered to the terrible chasm, vertigo taking over once more at the image of just how long the fall would last.

Endless seconds of free fall.

But it wouldn’t be the fall that would kill you, would it now? It would be the landing.

It was always the landing.

Hovering above the edge in Steve’s arms, his eyes turned up towards the colourful sky, as if he was trying to keep his tears at bay or simply couldn’t look at you. Seconds felt like hours. Like forever, even. It was obvious he couldn’t make himself let go.

Jesus _fucking _Christ, how could he, after all? You wouldn’t if having been in his place, your roles reversed.

“Down-“ you muttered lowly and he instantly obeyed with his gaze returning to you.

The glance he focused on you would always be carved into your memory, even in death, you had no doubt. You never knew a man could tell so much about the agony that was tearing him apart with one look, but here he was.

When he kneeled, lowering your body to the ground, his hold slacking a fraction, you knew it was time. You forced another teary smile, lips quivering, no longer able to tell if it was from pain, the cold seeping into your bones and core or simple fear.

What was waiting at the bottom? More pain or something else? Maybe the peace, finally? How would you be able to rest in peace though, knowing you were leaving Steve behind?

“S-so good t-to me,” you breathed out shakily, memorizing every feature, every wrinkle of laughter and worry, even as the darkness started eating out the edges of your vision. You needed to go, _now._ You gathered the last remnants of strength, bracing yourself. “Love ya’.”

Propping your palms against his chest, you pushed away from him, the feeling of the sudden lack of ground under your body dizzying.

Wind slapped your cheeks, freezing the tears in your eyes and cutting through the wound.

The gale carried Steve’s broken scream to your ears and you sent him one last whispered sorry.

The fall seemed to have no end. But for once, God was truly merciful; you didn’t feel the landing.

\---

Seeing their past selves was strange to say at least and Natasha mused how long of a path they had all walked since the first assemble of the Avengers.

In a way, it carried hope too though. She had buried hope for her soulmate and lost friends a long time ago; but now it was back. They had retrieved the Stones from New York relatively smoothly – though Clint a bit perplexed at having his soul punched out of his body by the Sorcerer Supreme – and were on their way back to their time.

This mission was a pretty ambitious stretch from Budapest. She had told so to Clint and found herself honestly smiling at his burst of laughter after years of mourning. Some lives had been ruined, but others still remained; and the chances that what they had lost in the dust could be brought back had concrete outlines now; outlines visible on her own skin as well.

Her feet landed on the platform with a rather ungraceful thud, but she still managed to keep herself standing upright. One glance around was all she spent to check up on everyone; only to find two people missing.

Blood froze in her veins, the satisfied smile at completed mission slipping from her face as her heart changed its pace from excited to horrified.

_No_.

No, this was _not _how this was supposed to go! Everyone should have come back!

So why was one whole pair missing? Why-

Strangely enough, her horror only escalated when she noticed that it was in fact one person missing only; because the other was on the platform with them, closer to the ground than she had expected, stripped of the nano-suit, stealth suit darker as it was dripping water; pink as it mixed with crimson stains on his thighs and torso.

No.

_Oh no._

This was not happening. It _couldn’t._ Not _again._

Steve had fallen to his knees, hands by his side clenched in tight fists. Blankly staring ahead, not actually seeing anything in front of him, a smudge of red – three lines clearly drawn by bloody fingertips – on his cheek and his face free of any colour and emotion telling enough of a story; _screaming _a story, in fact.

Natasha’s insides twisted painfully and she nearly spilled her gastric juices. She recognized that look – she had seen it before on Steve. On herself in a mirror.

Tears stinging in her eyes, she took a shaky step towards him, her heart weeping and grieving for her friends.

“…Steve?” Bruce questioned lowly from behind the machine he had controlled, but it only filled the deadly silence.

They all already knew what happened – or understood enough.

The Stone giving away warm amber glow slipped from Steve’s palm, his fingers plunging in his hair and gripping tightly, pulling enough to make it hurt like hell no doubt.

Yet, Natasha was well-aware it did nothing to dull the deep visceral pain that overtook his whole being, swallowed his whole shattered soul.

A guttural moan left his lips as he curled into himself and she didn’t bother blinking away her tears anymore.

Nothing she could do would sooth his grief. Yet, she placed her trembling palm on Steve’s shoulder in attempt to ground him, to show him she was there for him.

A desperate shriek, a helpless cry loud enough to tear ear-drums and hearts, cut the thick air of the compound and the large frame of a supersoldier went limp, swaying aside.

Natasha didn’t try and stop the fall. God knew that he would be falling for too long anyway.

The fucked-up thing about this kind of fall was that the landing, the only thing that could bring relief, would never come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLD THE FIRE! If you don’t kill me, you might get an epilogue, you know? One you might actually like. Just SAYING!


	7. Epilogue: We’re tied together (now and forever)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever look at a fic and are like… you know this was supposed to be a cheesy one-shot, right?
> 
> Chapter-long epilogue to this insane monster of a ‘one-shot’. I just realized that the fic title is applicable to me as well. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking till the very end (of the line).
> 
> P.S: !! More hinted spoilers ahead !!

Waking up in a comfy bed was surreal; mostly because you knew that after falling – or half-jumping – from a cliff, this wasn’t what was usually happening. You didn’t have much experience, but you still had some common sense left.

Right?

Why did nothing hurt?

“Hello, Little One,” a voice greeted you, startling you enough to roll over and fall from the bed – only to land back in the cushions, confusing the Hell out of you – or perhaps you should have thought _Heaven_.

Because this was positively Castiel‘s voice. Castiel as an angel. Angels, as long as you were concerned, belonged to Heaven.

Was it possible that… that- this was--?

“Yes, you’re in Heaven… again,” he hummed nonchalantly as if it was perfectly common to just die _twice _and he seated himself on the edge of your bed.

“I killed myself,” you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, instantly slapping your palm over your mouth. It sounded terrible, hearing yourself say it out loud, just throw it out in the open as if it was not a big deal.

Which in fact, it was. Since when suicidal people went to Heaven? You never had been good with the whole faith thing, but this sounded a bit sketchy.

“To save half of the Universe,” Castiel questioned, frowning. “Or would you say your soulmate belonged to hell after had once forced the plane down, expecting to die in exchange of saving millions?”

Silently admitting he had a point, you let the issue alone for the moment. Instead, you blinked, taking his appearance in. He was wearing his typical trench-coat, making him look like an accountant, dorky for a celestial being. He fitted in here though – bright room, white sheets, no windows…

“You’ll get a better room soon, less prison-like,” he explained as if he could hear your thoughts. Which he as well might, because he was an angel, you were in freaking Heaven, _again_, which what the _Hell_, if you had been before, how could you _not_ remember that-- and everything was so confusing and… lonely. “But I thought you’d like to see your soulmate first.”

Your heart stopped. Later, you would question why did you still have a fucking _heartbeat,_ or why did it feel like it, but did he just say-

“What the Hell is Steve doing here?!” you shrieked in horror and Castiel sighed, possibly at your swearing, but you didn’t give a _fuck._ What was Steve-

“He’s not here. But a battle with Thanos occurred and I thought you might like to see.”

You ran your hand down your face tiredly, relieved beyond words. Steve was alive, still on Earth – probably.

_Christ._ Castiel sure didn’t know how to talk to a girl who had a superhero for husband. Or he in fact did, since he was willing to show you.

It took one single snap of Castiel’s fingers and a scene of horror – fire, ash and blood – unfolded in front of you. There was nothing but smother from the debris where the compound had used to be, the Titan with an enormous space ship probably to blame.

And barely three defenders of Earth stood against him and his endless rows of army, thousands of monsters ready to take the half of population one by one, just waiting to be released from the ship.

Where were the others? And… Thanos! They killed him! What-

“How-“

“The Avengers gathered all the Stones. Hulk snapped this time, bringing everyone who had died in the original Snap back. Unfortunately, a spy infiltrated the team and led Thanos from the past to the present,” Castiel explained patiently, but you were anything but patient, suddenly angry as gnawing fear bit into your stomach.

“Then why are you _here?!_ There’s… there’s Tony, Thor and _Steve,_ three people—sorta people – facing a fucking ARMY FROM SPACE!” you yelled at the angel, a being powerful enough to drag your ass from Heaven.

How could he just... stand here with you?!

“We cannot interfe-“

“The fuck did you just say?!” you spitted out, rising to your feet. “Aren’t angels supposed to be guar-“ you continued your verbal assault in attempt to get him moving, only to freeze when a blinding lightning hit Thor’s hammer_s (_plural?!) and the infamous trio threw themselves into the battle.

You barely had few seconds to feast your eyes on Steve in one piece; he was glorious, standing straight with his chin up, jaw clenched in determination and all you could think of was how strong he was, carrying on with the mission.

You knew it wasn’t that he didn’t miss you, that he didn’t grieve you; he was simply the bravest person you had ever met, just like you had told him before… ugh, before you had died.

If you only weren’t so terrified for him.

Where was everyone? If the Snap worked and people had been brought back, where was the whole bunch of warriors from Wakanda? The rest of the Avengers’ crew?

Breathless, your heart pounding in both your ribcage and temples, you watched as Thanos tossed the three figures around, almost as if he was playing with them despite their best efforts.

“Get up, Stevie. _God, please,_ get up, get up, be okay,” you whispered urgently with your throat swollen at one particular blow that had your soulmate landing on his back and lying down with his breath knocked out of his chest, his eyes closed in what could only be agony. 

With horror, you saw his body turn almost limp, your nails digging into your palms.

_GET. UP. Don’t you dare to stay down and get yourself killed!_

He clenched his jaw, something that twisted your insides in genuine fear glinting in his eyes. This wasn’t determination anymore. This was madness. He pushed himself on his feet and you couldn’t quite make yourself to feel relieved despite him fulfilling your earlier silent wish.

Determined Steve was a great Steve. Mad Steve? Mad Steve did crazy-ass decisions that could cost him his life. You had that in common.

Your jaw slowly went slack when your very husband grabbed Thor’s Mjölnir as if it was not a _mythical _weapon from the legends only Thor could lift and… banged up the Titan as if he had been fighting with it his whole life.

Incredulous chuckle escaped your lips when a flash of lightning connected with the hammer as Steve… charged it, only to aim its power at Thanos.

_“I told him he could lift it,”_ you murmured despite yourself, letting yourself to feel a tinniest bit of hope and pride.

There was only three of them now, but surely the people who had been dusted were on their way. Steve, Thor and Tony just had to keep the Titan occupied-

Then the army stood, exiting the ship in a deadly march, no, in a deadly race and Steve got himself into trouble.

You grinded your teeth, unable to look away, but present enough to be pissed as _Hell_ at Heaven and its angels and let them know.

“Do something! He’s gonna-“

A circle of amber-coloured sparkles appeared on Steve’s left and you could _cry,_ recognizing Strange’s handiwork. The back-up was there. The _army_. King of Wakanda with his badass sister. Sam. Bucky. Strange, Peter, the Maximoffs. Carol Danvers flying through the alien spaceship as if it was made of cotton candy. Even Natasha emerged from the debris with Clint and the others, causing you to breathe out in relief.

Now the true fight would start.

You weren’t calm by any means. But you were hopeful. Just glancing at the briefest encounter of Natasha with Sam was sweet enough to bring tears in your eyes.

“Kick their asses,” you whispered encouragingly, swallowing thickly and _actually _praying.

It was nearly impossible to follow the battle then; too many fronts, too many people, half-people and alien creatures. You saw the gauntlet they were trying to protect, you kept your eye on Steve, finding Thanos and his momentary enemies when you had the capacity to do so.

You honestly couldn’t tell how the fight was going, if it was in your favour or not, there was so much blood and smoke and noise… and then something caught your attention with painful clarity.

Several things happened at once; Carol, literally glued to Thanos, who had somehow got a hold of the gauntlet with all of the stones in _(oh God, oh my God, this couldn’t happen again-)_, was thrown away as if she was nothing but an annoying fly, Tony registered a part of his armour having been ripped away – his hand-piece – and found it with his gaze at Steve’s feet as Stephen Strange raised one shaky finger towards Tony, who suddenly had an expression of utter defeat on his face.

Your slow, terror-struck mind didn’t do the math when Steve jumped on Thanos’ arm, forcing his fingers away so he couldn’t snap his fingers. Something red and flashy glimmered in the mess of limbs, but you didn’t pay enough attention to make the connection. Peter, Spider-man, managed to web the gauntlet, helping out Steve and you _almost_ breathed out the air suffocating your lungs

Almost.

Because the next moment, Steve was tossed away like a rag-doll, much like Carol had been.

Like in a slow motion, the infamous effect in movies to add dramatics, you saw the Titan raise his hand with a smug smirk; and you noticed, unlike him, that his gauntlet was, in fact, empty of the Stones. But-

“I am… inevitable,” he exclaimed, a dull mechanic snap following his statement.

Nothing happened, except for the huge and ugly purple head whipping towards his useless weapon in confusion.

And that was when you saw it. The glow of the stones in a red piece of armour, _Ironman’s _armour, that was no longer worn by its owner.

All of the puzzle pieces fell into place, clicking with a painful clack.

Strange’s gesture. Tony’s expression. Crowley’s words of one future, matching the story of the contemporary Sorcerer Supreme. And the red flash when Steve had been fighting Thanos.

“No,” you whispered breathlessly, remembering with startling clarity what Steve had told you about Thanos – the Titan, stronger than all of the Avengers together – looked like after he finished his mission. He had nearly died. 

“NO!” you repeated with more force, horror filling your very being, dimming the world around you, a violent tremble attacking your body at the glint in Steve’s eye.

It was the one that had shaken you so much before. The mad spark.

_Do whatever it takes, consequences be damned._

His raspy voice broke your heart in two, tearing your soul when you realized the implication of his words:

“No. You are only dust. And to dust you shall return.”

The snap of Steve’s metal-clad fingers echoed in the room and in your head, the sound seeping into your bones as you were blinded by the streak of colours, the white swallowing the whole world for long seconds.

You were sure that this was what actual death looked like. Nothing but emptiness.

You reflected several of your last words to Steve, wanting to rip your hair out. Why had you told him such nonsense? _Why _would you tell him that God had wanted it this way, that you had only played your part in His grand scheme?

You finally understood the words Sam had told you so many years ago, about similar people in a relationship being a disaster in making. Steve had embraced your belief in being only a tiny wheel in the God’s great plan.

That was the meaning of the words he said. A famous line from Bible, reflecting how much he believed in God’s work at the moment. 

_You are only dust. And to dust you shall return._

In the critical seconds, Steve believed he had been chosen by God to be the tool delivering Thanos his defeat.

And very likely to pay his life as a price.

Your eyes adjusted to the once again dark scene, where the hostile army started indeed turning back to dust. You desperately searched the only figure that mattered, finding him with his back resting against a random vertical flat surface, his chest barely rising.

The sight on half of his body severely burned, multiple spots on his skin blacking as it already died, had your eyes squeezed shut, your knees giving out as the sob shook your whole body.

The scene was burned into your brain, an image carved into your eyelids, sharp and precise as if you were still watching with your eyes wide open. You whimpered, shaking your head to chase it away. Vainly. You didn’t remember looking into his eyes, yet you saw them hollow, blue and green always so brilliant misted. _Dead_.

A hand landed on your shoulder and you winced, releasing another whine, sobs braking through your palm that at some point covered your mouth – whether to be silent of not to throw up, you couldn’t tell. The hand gave you a gentle squeeze that did nothing to sooth your grief.

_Oh God, oh you stupid God, why are you such a DICK?!_

“Why? _Why_ did it have to be him?!” you choked out, avoiding the post-battle sight and instead shot Castiel a glare that could _murder._

Your chest hurt. They just tore your heart away, easily as that, hollow gaping space in its place and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe and hear and see-

“I don’t know, Little One. It was as it was meant to be. You wouldn’t want to see him suffer through your loss again anyway, believe me.”

“That doesn’t make it _right!” _you spitted out, disgusted at such implication. As if this happened to make you feel _better!_ You were suffering. Hurting. But most of all, you were so _fucking _angry. With God. With Castiel. With… with yourself. Maybe if you hadn’t told him— perhaps- oh God, oh _Satan,_ _let the pain go away… let him rest at least._ “What happens to him now?”

“Watch, Little One. He’s not gone yet,” Castiel encouraged you kindly, but you couldn’t- couldn’t—what was happening? Was he trying to tell you that they might be able to save him?

The flare of hope ignited in your body died as fast as it caught fire; but then why would Castiel say that you wouldn’t want to Steve go through losing you again?

Steve _was_ about to die. If he wasn’t gone yet, then he must have been in so much pain that your own, this paralyzing feeling, must have been nothing in comparison.

Why were you forced to witness his last moments? What kind of a twisted _Heaven_ was this?

“You _fucking_ idiot,” Tony rushed to his friend’s side, pissed and resigned at the same time.

“We won,” Steve breathed out weakly, only one eye following the movements around him. You buried your nails in the flesh of your palm, choking on your own spit as the sob tried to fight its way out of your chest.

“Yeah, we did,” Bucky confirmed softly, kneeling to his brother, because they were nothing less than that. Hesitant hand curled around Steve’s seemingly unharmed bicep and he made a lame attempt at moving his arm to return that gesture. Bucky clenched his jaw, a tear appearing in the corner of his eye. “Don’t call him an idiot, Stark. That’s _my job.” _

His voice broke at the end of the sentence and your heart shattered as you felt his pain as your own. You couldn’t see anymore. The image was so blurry, but now new fear controlled your body, the fact Castiel never answered you and that meant something horrible awaited Steve in death and this was in fact your last moments of seeing him and— _God, oh God, who had ever dared to call you **merciful**?_

“I’m talking to God,” Tony specified and you wordlessly thanked him. “Clearly, he’s a dick for making it this way.”

“Nah. ‘s smart. S-sam?” Steve choked out, voice barely audible and the therapist (with _wings_ now, having returned to his previous job) was instantly by his side, his eyes glassy as well.

“Yeah, Cap?”

An attempt at shake of head was given, you assumed, but barely a motion was the result. “You Cap now. Will ya’?”

If you had any capacity for being astonished left, you would have been at the request. But you were far too gone, drowning in misery.

“…yeah. Of course. I will if that’s what you want.”

“ ’sanks.”

Thor’s enormous figure took a step closer, thunderous voice uncharacteristically quiet. “We’ll remember you, brother. Both of you.”

A faint smile appeared on Steve’s lips, only one corner capable of rising, and yet he closed both of his eyes for a long moment, clearly struggling to stay conscious.

_That’s a lie,_ your mind whispered. _Not just conscious. Struggling to stay **alive**. And losing!_

Only one eye opening, Steve managed to cast a half-lidded glance in Bucky’s direction, flickering to Tony for a second.

His next word was crystal clear. “Home.”

Natasha sobbed into her palm, but her delicate fingers curled around Steve’s arm as well, right next to Bucky’s, giving her friend a tight-lipped pained smile.

“Yeah, Steve. It’s okay to go home. To her. Tell her we say hi, yeah?” she pleaded lowly, keeping her voice without a crack despite few tears escaping her eyes.

You stopped breathing altogether and prayed. _God, please, let him find peace. With me. And if not with me, at least give him the peace he deserves, I beg you._

Clint fell to one knee, bowing his head.

At first, you didn’t realize it wasn’t just grief sucking the strength from him. No. Bucky, Sam and Nat instantly followed, mirroring his position precisely. They were paying their respect to a fallen comrade, you realized.

You couldn’t take it anymore as you noticed everyone else doing the same. Not when during the process, Steve’s chest stopped its motion, the life leaving his body.

And your heart left with him, along with your sanity.

Nothing made sense anymore. You fucked up, God himself fucked up and Castiel, and angels and Universe and-- and it hurt. Steve had said that they had won, but you lost. You lost everything.

Your vision was clouded by both tears of sorrow and anger, your body numb from all the pain.

Castiel’s hand slid from your shoulder, finally, but instead, you were pulled into an embrace.

You wanted to push away and run and punch and curl up on the floor, but the arms around you were firm and your head was buried in your captor’s chest. You wanted to fight it, refuse the lame attempt at comfort, and you breathed in furiously to brace yourself to free your body, but the sudden familiarity, faint cologne and warmth, body large enough to engulf yours, lips in your hair…

“S-st-steve?” you choked out, disgusting gurgle sounding in your throat, but in that moment, you suddenly couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The way you said his name was more a question, but you didn’t need an answer. You would recognize him anywhere.

You husband. Your soulmate. Your Steve.

The arms around you tightened, his embrace turning into nearly crushing, his chest expanding with generous inhale as his face buried in your hair further. Your lips curled up in a tight smile and you let out a hysterical laugh, sorrow and joy, pain and relief.

“You’re here,” he mumbled to your scalp, hot tears following his words and you found yourself lifted from the floor, your body nearly merging with his and you could finally _breathe _again, your heart fluttering in your chest. One of his arms held you securely to his form while the other fisted in the mess of your hair. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t be here.”

“Then why did you do it?” you asked him, the anger seeping through despite the delight at the encounter you could have only prayed for. He was _here._ “I’m so fucking mad at you.”

“So am I at you,” he opposed, but the growling of his voice was too soft for you to believe him his rage was larger than his relief.

And so you let your own anger go too.

This was beyond your control. Deep inside, you knew that. You had been just playing a part; neither of you had asked for that. You surely didn’t ask to be approached by Crowley and being given _the_ mission, while there was little Steve could do differently when the weapon had been thrown to his feet; a literal throw of the gauntlet that was impossible to ignore.

There was a large scheme of inevitable fate put in motion. Who were you to challenge fate?

No point in being mad at each other. Especially when graced with this opportunity to… whatever this was.

“Truce?” you quipped hesitantly and Steve chuckled, a watery sound that made your chest ache, yet filled it with warmth that could never be replicated. For this sensation, so unique, you needed your soulmate only.

And you had him. Forever, perhaps?

Steve withdrew a fraction, his hand caressing your damp cheek as his own glistened with salty drops, but the magnitude of his love, the amount of affection written all over his face, took your breath away, making you forget all about ugly crying.

One look to his twinkling eyes, full of devotion, and nothing else mattered.

“Yeah, doll. Truce. I love you.”

You didn’t get a chance to say to tell him the same, since he kissed your nose, your watery giggle having his lips spread in the boyish smile you adored.

“I love you too,” you whispered then, planting your own kiss on his lips, chaste and short.

He wouldn’t take it. His mouth locked with yours in a searing kiss instead, emotion pouring from each tiny motion of his lips against yours and you gave in, engaging in the dance of love, your fingers tangled in his locks.

Now _this_ felt like Heaven.

“We’re okay. Everything is going to be okay,” he breathed into your mouth then, fresh tears spicing your kiss.

You didn’t care if you sounded like a child, you asked anyway. “Promise?”

Steve retreated as little as possible to be able to look into your eyes, his own still glassy, but serious and heavy with a vow.

“Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I forgiven? _Technically,_ this could be considered a sort of a happy ending, right? To a point, of course.
> 
> BTW, about the scene where they honour the fallen Cap: that scene (with Tony, obviously) WAS supposed to be in Endgame, how dare you, fix that at instant!
> 
> Also, while I love Steve to bits (in case you couldn’t tell) and I was happy for him because of the ending he got in Endgame, understanding the arc the writers made, the more and more I think about it, it was kinda out of character and… maybe I would have been more satisfied if he was the one snapping and taking Tony’s fate. I mean… I would have cried my eyes out, sure, but… but. Now you can kill me :D But FYI, if it came to that, I would have totally written a SPN crossover where Steve and Nat meet in Heaven. Sorry for the ramble.
> 
> I love you if you read this till the end, till the last line. Thank you with my whole heart for your support ♥


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